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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Kate  Gordon  Moore 


Hark  ^ahttUk 


1906 


Copyright,  1906,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  October,  1906. 


PR 


®ljp  Stor^  attJi  Song  nf 


853391 


2Ily^  S>t0ry  unh  Bnn^  of 
Hark  W^nhtxuk 


THIS  is  the  story  of  Black  Earl 
Roderick,  the  story  and  the  song 
of  his  pride  and  of  his  humbling; 
of  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  and  of 
the  love  that  came  to  it  at  last;  of 
his  threatened  destruction,  and  the 
strange  and  wonderful  way  of  his 
salvation. 

So  shall  I  begin  and  tell. 

He  left  his  gray  castle  at  the  dawn 
of  the  morning,  and  with  many  a 
knight  to  bear  him  company  rode, 
not   eager   and   swift,   like   a   prince 


a 


^ 


^ 


f^ 


4*3 


'>who  went  to  find  a  treastire,  but 
steady  and  slow,  as  we  should  go  to 
meet  sorrow.  Not  one  of  the  hun- 
dred men  who  followed  dared  to  lilt 
a  lay  or  fling  a  laughing  jest  from  his 
mouth.  All  rode  silent  among  their 
gay  trappings,  for  so  saith  a  song: 

It  was  the  Black  Earl  Roderick 
Who  rode  towards  the  south; 

The  frown  was  heavy  on  his  brow. 
The  sneer  upon  his  mouth. 

Behind  him  rode  a  hundred  men 
All  gay  with  plume  and  spear; 

But  not  a  one  did  lilt  a  song 
His  weary  way  to  cheer. 

So  stern  was  Black  Earl  Roderick 

Upon  his  wedding-day, 
To  none  he  spake  a  single  word 

Who  met  him  on  his  way. 

And  of  those  that  passed  him  as  he 
went  there  were  none  who  dared  to 
bid  him  God-speed,  and  only  one 
whispered  at  all;  she  was  Mora  of 
the    Knowledge,    who    was    picking 


herbs  in  a  lonely  place  and  saw  him-; 
ride. 

"  There  goeth  the  hunter,"  said  she ; 
"  'tis  a  white  doe  that  thou  wouldst 
kill.  High  hanging  to  thee,  my  lord, 
upon  a  windy  day!" 

And  of  all  the  flying  things  he  met 
in  his  going,  one  only  dared  to  put 
pain  upon  him,  and  she  was  a  honey- 
bee who  stabbed  his  cheek  with  her?: 
sword. 

"Would   I   could   slay   thee,"   she'- 
cried,  "ere  thou  rob  the  hive  of  its 
honey!" 

And  of  all  the  creeping  things  that 
passed  him  on  his  way,  only  one  tried 
to  stay  him;  she  was  the  bramble 
who  cast  her  thorn  across  his  path  so 
his  steed  wellnigh  stumbled. 

"Would  I  could  make  thee  fall, 
Black  Earl,  who  now  art  so  high, 
ere  thou  rob  fruit  from  the  branch!" 

Only  one  living  thing  upon  the 
mountains  saw  him  go  without 
mourning,    and    he     was     the    red 

3 


0 


world   as   he 


weasel  who 
found  it. 

Tears   will   not   heal   a   wound," 

saith  he,    "but  they  will  quench  a 

5^^i  fire.     Thy  hive  is  in  danger,   bee," 

quoth    he.     "Bramble,    thy    flowers 

are  scattered  and  thy  fruit  lost." 

But  the  Black  Earl  did  not  heed 
or  hear  anything  outside  his  own 
thoughts.  They  were  sharper  than 
the  bee's  sword  and  less  easy  to  cast 
aside  than  the  entrapping  bramble. 

When  he  reached  the  castle  where- 
in his  bride  did  dwell,  he  blew  three 
blasts  upon  the  horn  that  hung  be- 
side the  gate,  and  in  answer  to  his 
call  a  voice  cried  out  to  him.  But 
what  it  said  I  shall  sing  thee,  lest 
thou  grow  weary  of  my  prose: 


"Come  in,  come  in,  Earl  Roderick, 

Come  in  or  you  he  late; 
The  priest  is  ready  in  his  stole, 

The  wedding  guests  await." 

And  then  the  stern  Earl  Roderick 
From  his  fierce  steed  cam^  down; 


The  sneer  still  curled  upon  his  lip, 
His  eyes  still  held  the  frown. 


He  strode  right  haughtily  and  quick 

Into  the  banquet-hall, 
And  stood  among  the  wedding  guests. 

The  greatest  of  them  all. 

He  gave  scant  greeting  to  the  throng. 
He  waved  the  guests  aside : 

"Now  haste/  for  I,  Earl  Roderick, 
Will  wait  long  for  no  bride/ 

"And  I  must  in  the  saddle  be 

Before  the  night  is  gray; 
So  quickly  with  the  marriage  lines. 

And  let  us  ride  away." 


And  now  shall  I  tell  thee  how,  SiS,-^^^^^ 
he  spoke  thus  proud  and  heartlessly, ""^^ 
his  little  bride  came  into  the  hall  ? '' 
So  white  was  she,  and  so  trembled 
she,  that  many  wondered  she  did  not 
sink  upon  the  marble  floor  and  die. 

Her  mother  held  her  snow-white 
hand,  weeping  bitterly  the  while. 

"If  I  had  my  will,"  thought  she, 
"this  thing  should  never  be.  Oh, 
sharp  sorrow,"  sobbed  she,  "this  for 

5 


0 


^^ 


a  woman:  my  trouble  thou  art,  and 
my  thousand  treasures." 

Her   father,    seeing   the   frowning 

P  Earl,  muttered  in  his  beard: 

t\\      "Would    there    were    some   other 

M^P  way.     Stern  is  he  and  hard,  to  wear 

a  yoimg  maid's  heart."     And  then 

^  aloud    he    spoke,    laying    his    hands 


Mr 


upon  the  yellow  curls  of  his  child 


y<^^>00'p'Q  "  This  is  the  golden  link  that  binds 

^"^^^^^M^^^  the  clans.     God's  sweet  love  be  upon 

JMW-  her  head,  for  she  hath  healed  a  cruel 

r?>f?//S^    ^^^   ®^^^   quarrel   between   the   two 

houses.     Lift    up    your    voices,    my 

comrades,  and  make  ye  merry;  it  is 

a   good   deed   you   have   helped   in 

to-day." 

Now,  when  the  guests  turned  with 
their  laughter  and  gentle  jesting  to 
the  newly  married  pair,  the  Black 
Earl  relented  not  his  frown.  With 
scant  courtesy  and  brief  good-bye 
he  mounted  upon  his  fretting  steed, 
vowing  he  could  no  longer  stay.  Up 
before  him  they  lifted  the  young  bride. 

6 


'"Tis  a  rough  place  to  carry  the 
child,"  wept  the  sad  mother. 

But   her   father   smiled   upon   the 
Black  Earl. 

"Where  but  upon  his  heart  should 
she  rest?     Is  that  not  so,  my  son?" 

"If  it  be  not  cold,"  muttered  the,<^ 
sullen  bridegroom,  drawing  his  rein.  ^ '' 


"Wrap    thy    cloak    about    her, 
cried  the  father,  waving  farewell. 

"Wrap  thy  love  about  her,"  wept 
the  mother,  hiding  her  face. 

So  rode   the   Black   Earl  and  his  ^-j^; 
bride,  followed  by  his  sullen  men-at- 
arms,  gay  with  their  wedding  favors. 

To  his  weary  little  bride  he  spoke 
no  gentle  word,  though  she  fluttered 
weeping  upon  his  breast  like  to  some 
wounded  thing. 

For  in  his  heart  the  gloomy  Earl 
spake  bitterly,  and  said  he: 

"  Not  upon  thy  hand  did  I  hope  to 
place  my  golden  ring;  I  have  put  my 
own  true  love  aside,  to  keep  the  clans 
together,    and    wedding    thee    thus 

7 


P 


u^^ 


I 


have  I  been  false  to  the  desires  of 
yy  my  heart,  so  do  I  turn  from  thee 

T ^.  '^^^  ^^*  "^y  bride." 

Thus  did  he  take  her  to  his  castle 
in  silence,  and,  lifting  her  from  his 
steed,  bid  her  enter  the  strong  gates 
before  him. 

So  shut  they  with  a  clang  upon  her 
youth  and  her  merry  heart,  and  she 
became  the  neglected  mistress  of  the 
gray  towers  she  had  looked  on  from 
afar,  and  bride  of  the  great  Earl  she 
had  dreamed  of  so  long. 

But  to  the  Black  Roderick  she  was 
^^^3  as  nothing ;  he  sought  her  not,  neither 
did  he  speak  of  her;  she  was  but  the 
cruel  small  hand  that  closed  upon  his 
heart  and  drew  it  from  its  love, 
claiming  him  in  honor  her  own. 
And  to  her  claim  was  he  faithful, 
turning  even  his  thoughts  away,  lest 
he  should  be  false  to  his  vow.  But 
no  more  than  this  did  he  give  her. 

So  was  she  left  alone,  the  young 
bride    who    did    not    understand    a 

8 


cxsr. 


man's  ways,  and,  fearing  where  she 
loved,  hid  from  his  presence  lest  he 
should  look  upon  her  in  hate.     Oft 
had  she  dreamed  of  the  wonder  of*^ 
being  the  wife  of  this  proud  Earl,  in  |'/)^ 
trembling  desire  and  hope,   hearing 
her  parents  speak  of  him  and  of  the 
troth.     Oft  had  she  listened  to  their -^' 
murmured  words,   as  they  spoke  of 
the  clans  and  the  peace  these  two 
could  bring. 

"Stern  he  is,  and  black  for  the 
young  child,"  said  her  mother,  "and 
I  am  afraid";  but  the  child  stole 
away  to  the  hill  behind  her  father's 
castle,  and  there  looked  into  the  valley 
of  Baile-ata-Cliat  to  watch  the  white 
towers  of  the  Black  Earl  glistening 
in  the  sun,  to  dream  and  to  tremble. 

And  as  she  gazed  a  honey-bee 
hummed  in  her  ear,  "Go  not  to  the 
great  city." 

And  as  she  smiled  she  raised  her 
hand  between  her  eyes  and  the  far- 
ofl  towers  so  she  could  not  see. 

9 


^ 


Nay,"  quoth  she,   "it  is  a  small 

'place;  my  hand  can  cover  it." 

IP        "Ring  a  chime,"  saith  she  to  the 

*f^  heather  shaking  its  bells  in  the  wind, 

"ring  for  me  a  wedding  chime,  for 

I   am   to  be  the  bride  of  the  Earl 

l[^.^;*^  Roderick." 

She  kissed  the  wild  bramble  lifting 
its  petals  in  the  sun. 

"I  shall  return  to  thee  soon." 
And  so,  springing  to  her  feet,  she 
i^rran  laughing  down  the  hill,  and  as 
she  ran  the  spirit  of  the  hills  was 
with  her,   blowing  in  her  eyes  and 
'lifting  her  soft  hair, 
C^     "I  shall  return  to  thee  soon,"  she 
,  ,  _  said  again,  and  so  entered  her  father's 
ti^^  ^v^  house  and  prepared  herself  for  her 
betrothed. 

What  of  her  dream  was  there  now  ? 
She  was  indeed  the  Earl's  bride,  but, 
alack!  she  was  divorced  from  his 
heart  and  was  naught  to  his  days. 

Never  did  she  sit  by  his  knee  when 
he  drew  his  chair  by  the  fire,  weary 


^ 


;S=C3 


lO 


from  the  chase,  nor  lean  beside  him 
while  he  slept,  to  wonder  at  her  hap- 
piness. Down  the  great  halls  she 
went,  looking  through  the  narrow  J 
windows  on  the  outside  world,  as  a 
brown  moth  flutters  at  the  pane, 
weary  of  an  imprisonment  that  had 
in  its  hold  the  breath  of  death. 

Weary  and  pale  grew  she,  and 
more  morose  and  stern  the  Black 
Earl,  and  of  their  tragedy  there 
seemed  no  end.  But  when  a  year 
had  nigh  passed,  one  rosy  morning 
a  servant-lass  met  Black  Roderick 
as  he  came  from  his  chamber,  her 
eyes  heavy  with  tears. 

And  of  what  she  said  I  shall  sing, 
lest  thou  grow  weary  of  my  prose: 


"Alas r  she  said,  "Earl  Roderick, 
'Tis  well  that  you  should  know 
That  each  gray  eve,  lone  wandering. 
My  mistress  dear  doth  go. 

"She  comes  with  sorrow  in  her  eyes 
Home  in  the  dawning  light; 


II 


My  lord,  she  is  so  weak  and  young 
To  travel  in  the  night." 

Now  stern  grew  Black  Earl  Roderick, 

But  answered  not  at  all; 
He  took  his  hunting  harness  down 

That  hung  upon  the  wall. 

Then  quickly  went  he  to  the  chase, 

And  slowly  came  he  back, 
And  there  he  met  his  old  sweetheart. 

Who  stood  across  his  track. 


So  shall  I  tell  how  she,  sighing  and 


''^l  white  of  face,  laid  her  soft  hand  upon 
|l^  his  bridle-rein  so  he  could  not  go  from 
her.     Her  breath  came  out  of  her  like 
the  hissing  of  a  trodden  snake,  poison- 
ing the  ear  of  the  horseman. 

"Bend  to  me  thy  proud  head, 
Black  Earl,"  quoth  she,  "for  it  shall 
be  low  enough  soon.  This  is  a  tale  I 
bring  to  thee  of  sorrow  and  shame. 
Bend  me  thy  proud  neck.  Black 
Roderick,  for  the  burden  I  must  lay 
upon  it  shall  bow  thee  as  the  snow 
does  the  mountain  pine.  Bend  to 
me  thine -ear." 


^ 


12 


To  him  then  she  said: 

"Where  goeth  your  mistress?" 

"What   care   I?"   said   the   Black, 
Earl,  "since  she  be  not  thou," 

"If  she  were  I,"  said  his  lost  love,  ^"^^ 
"she  would  seek  no  other  save  thee 
alone." 

"What    sayest    thou?"    said    thet> 
Black  Earl,  pale  as  death. 

"Each    night    she   goeth    through^ 
the  woods  of  Glenasmole  to  the  hill; 
of  brown  Kippure,  and  there  lingereth  p 
until  the  dawn  be  chill." 

"Who  hath  her  love?"  saith  the 
Black  Earl. 

"A  shepherd,  or  mayhap  a  swine- 
herd— who  knoweth?"  quoth  the  ser- 
pent  voice.     "By   no   brave   prince       ^^  0 
art  thou  supplanted." 

At  this  the  Black  Earl  struck  his  ^ 

hand  upon  his  breast.  <4lV 

"Lord  pity  me,"  quoth  he,  "that 
in  my  time  should  come  the  stain      ^ 
upon  our  honored  house!     My  name,         cs* 
that  was  so  white,  shall  now  blush      *^ 

13 


I  red.  My  proud  ancestors  will  curse 
me  from  their  tomb.  Let  thou  go 
my  rein,  that  I  may  seek  this  wanton 
and  give  her  ready  punishment." 

So  quick  he  drew  the  rein  from 
her  hand  that  she  wellnigh  stumbled. 
And  like  one  bereft  of  mind  he  rode 
through  the  woods  and  up  the  hill 
seeking  his  false  bride.  High  and 
low  he  searched,  but  no  sign  of  his 
lost  mistress  did  he  discover.     Out 


^«. ,  ^  in  the  distance  he  saw  the  shining 
**'^  city  of  Baile-ata-Cliat,  on  the  near 
wood  side  of  which  his  gray  towers 
stood.     He  could  see  the  flag  on  its 
topmost  turret  waving  in  the  breeze 
like  a  beckoning  finger  calling  him 
back    from    his    futile    search.     He 
turned  him  about,  and  on  every  side 
of  him  were  the  shadowy  mountains 
jTj     watching    him    and    appalling    him 
with   their   mystery.     Impatient   he 
~^    turned  his  eyes  upon  the  ground;  a 
*o       bramble  moving  in  the  wind  cast  it- 
's^   self  about  his  feet.     He  crushed  it 


^ 


14 


under  his  heel.  A  bee  darting  from 
one  of  the  trodden  flowers  made  a 
battle-cry,  and  bared  her  sting  for 
his  neck.  He  struck  it  down  among 
the  leaves ;  following  its  fall,  his  eyes, 
drawn  by  some  other  eyes,  rested  on 
a  hollow  by  a  stone.  There  he  saw, 
gazing  at  him  the  whiskered  face  of^ 
a  red  weasel,  looking  without  pity, 
without  fear. 

"Evil  beast!"  said  the  Black  Earl, 
glad  to  speak,  for  the  silence  of  alii}) 
the  Hstening  things  who  watched 
him  made  his  heart  beat  with  un- 
wonted quickness,  and  he  knew  they, 
were  so  many  silent  judges  read- 
ing the  evil  of  his  soul.  "Get 
thee  gone,"  quoth  the  Black  Earl. 
"Barest  thou  gaze  upon  me  without 
fear?" 

But  the  red  weasel,  resting  at  the     (^ 
doorway  of  his  hole,  did  not  blink  a 
lid  of  his  sharp  eyes.  <r5^ 

"Who  art  thou   that   evil   should       c». 
droop  ashamed  before  thee?"  said  a    '"^^^ 

IS 


0 


voice,  and  the  Black  Earl  turned  as 
though  a  stone  had  struck  him. 
(f^         Now,    when   he   looked    east   and 
west,  no  one  could  he  see,  but  when 
he  turned  him  south,   there  among 
WPl^  the  trees  he  saw  an  old,  bent  wom- 
an gathering  herbs.     He  turned  his 
full    of   rage,    drove   it 
towards  her. 


'T^^S  horse    and, 

'iP43  "Was  it  not  thy  voice  that  hurt 
my  ears  as  I  stood  upon  the  hill?" 
quoth  the  Black  Earl,  his  tongue 
silken  in  his  rage. 

"Nay,"  said  the  ancient  crone;  "I 
heard  but  the  linnet's  song  upon  the 
tree,  and  the  sound  of  running  water 
that  is  murmuring  in  the  grove. 
Listen,  and  thou,  too,  shalt  hear." 

"Nay,"  quoth  she  again,  for  the 
Black  Earl  scowled  so  at  her  that  she 
feared  to  be  silent.  "If  I  said  this 
thing,  why  should  it  vex  the  ear  of 
so  proud  a  knight?  Yonder  black 
rook  did  look  into  my  face  with  an 
inquisitive  eye  as  I  plucked  my  herbs 

i6 


P 


and  harmed  no  man,  so  I,  angry  at 
the  wicked  one,  cursed  him  begone. 
As  he  flew  affrighted  at  my  hand,  I 
turned  my  eyes  into  my  own  heart. 
The  birds  and  I,  do  we  not  both  root 
in  the  cold  earth,   seeking  to  draw 
from  it  our  desires?     Black  and  ill 
looking,  we  dig  all  day.     'Who  artSi- 
thou,'  quoth  I  to  myself,  'that  evil 
should    fly    before    thee?'     Wicked*^ 
that  I  am,"  cried  the  witch,   "and 
sorrow  upon  me  that  my  words  have^ 
vexed  thine  ears!" 

Now  the  Black  Earl  did  look  upon 
her  in  anger,  and  but  half  believed 
her  tale.  His  trouble  being  heavy 
upon  him,  he  bade  her  leave  her 
lamenting  and  answer  his  ques- 
tion. 

"There  is  one,"  quoth  he,  "who 
doth  wander  upon  the  hill-side,  far 
from  her  home,  a  lady  of  high  de- 
gree; sawest  thou  any  such,"  saith 
he,  "for  I  have  sought  her  long?" 

Now  will  I  sing  thee  what  was  said 
17 


P 


^ 


and  what  happened,  lest  thou  grow 
weary  of  my  prose: 

"/  have  not  seen  your  lady  here," 
The  withered  dame  replied; 

''But  I  have  met  a  little  lass 

Who  wrung  her  hands  and  cried. 

"She  was  not  clad  in  silken  robe, 
Nor  rode  a  palfrey  white, 
She  had  no  maidens  in  her  train, 
Behind  her  rode  no  knight. 

"But  she  crept  weary  up  yon  hill 
And  crouched  upon  the  sward; 
I  dare  not  think  that  she  could  he 
Spouse  to  so  great  a  lord." 

Now  darkly  frowned  Earl  Roderick, 

He  turned  his  face  away; 
And  shame  and  anger  in  his  heart 

Disturbed  him  with  their  sway. 

For  he  had  never  cared  to  know 
What  his  young  bride  would  wear; 

He  gave  her  neither  horse  nor  hound. 
Nor  jewels  for  her  hair. 


r-^        Now  shall  I  tell  how  the  Black 

<*c:?        Earl  clapped  his  hand  upon  his  dag- 

rx'P     ger,  and  said  in  a  great  rage :  "Where 

i8 


went  this  little  lass,  and  whom  hath\ 
she  by  her  side  ?  for  whoever  he  be,  I 
shall  show  to  him  no  pity.     Neither, 
shall  her  tears  save  her.     Nor  sha! 
thy  age   serve  thee,   witch,   if  thou 
hast  spoken  not  the  truth.     Whither 
went  they,  so  I  may  follow,  as  the^^^ 
hoimd  goes  on  the  trail  of  the  deer?"^ 

"Oh,  sharp  sorrow  thy  anger  is!" 
cried  the  old  crone;  "what  can  I  say/r 
save  what  my  eye  hath  seen  and  my 
ear  hath  heard?  The  Httle  lass?i 
passed  me  as  I  gathered  my  herbs 
imder  the  dew.  She  hath  by  her 
side  no  lord  nor  lover.  She  went 
sad  and  alone.  Here  climbed  she 
the  height  of  the  hill,  and  there  sat 
she  making  her  lament." 

"And  what  lament  made  she?" 
said  the  Black  Earl,  putting  his  dag- 
ger into  its  sheath. 

"Once  called  she  on  her  father,  as 
one  who  drowns  in  deep  waters 
would  call  upon  a  passing  ship. 
Twice  called  she  upon  her  mother, 

19 


0 


^ 


as  one  would  call  upon  a  house  of 

rest  or  of  hospitality.     Thrice  called 

she    upon    Earl    Roderick,    as    one 

^ would  call  at  the  gates  of  paradise, 

there  to  find  rescue  and  love." 

I'^p      "And  said  she  naught  else?"  said 

l^  the  Black  Earl,  his  head  upon  his 

..T,'%  breast. 

^4■/fc7       "Yea,"  quoth  the  crone,   "when 
^^t  "Pshe    called    upon    her    father,    she 
,^^ smiled    through    her    tears.     'Didst 
|;^N^thou  know  I  perish,'  quoth  she,  'thy 
Ci\ni  .^0  arms  would  reach  to  save  me!' 


And  when  she  called  twice  upon 
her  mother,  her  mouth  smiled  even 
the  same,  'for  didst  thou  learn  my 
P"^-^%^  hunger,  thy  heart  would  warm  me  to 
"  "^  life  again ' ;  but  when  she  called  three 
times  upon  Earl  Roderick,  she  paused 
as  though  for  an  answer,  and  smiled 
no  more.  'Thee,'  quoth  she,  'I  per- 
ish for,  I  hunger  for.  Thou  lovest 
me  not  at  all.' 

"So   did   she   sit   and   make   her 
moan  upon  the  hill,  and  here  watched 

20 


x^m 


^ 


# 


j^ 


io 


"asf^ 


she  the  lights  in  the  far  windows  i 
of  her  lost  home  quench  themselves 
one  by  one.  '  Now, '  quoth  she,  '  my 
mother  sleepeth,  and  now  my  father. 
And  now  by  all  am  I  forgotten.' 
Then  did  she  steal,  in  the  dim  light, 
down  from  the  hill,  and  I  saw  her  no 
more." 

"What  didst  thou  tell  to  her,  old 
witch?"  quoth  the  Black  Earl, 
she    passed    weeping?     Didst    thou 
speak  to  her  no  word  ? "  ?;■, 

"I  stopped  her  as  she  passed  me, 
proud  Earl,"  quoth  the  crone,  "for 
she  was  gentle,  and  held  her  head  not 
too  high  to  look  upon  one  old  and^ 
near  unto  death. 

'"Weep  not,'  said  I,  'but  spread 
to  me  thy  fingers,  so  I  may  read  what 
fate  thou  boldest  in  thy  palm.'  And 
like  a  child  she  smiled  between  her 
tears. 

"'Look  only  on  luck,'  quoth  she, 
*  oh,  ancient  one,  lest  my  heart  break 
even  now. '     I  spread  her  pink  finger- 


0 


21 


tips  out  as  one  would  unruffle  a  rose, 
and  read  therein  her  fate." 

"And  what  read  you  there?"  said 
the  Black  Earl,  impatient  with  her 
l^'l  delay. 

"I  read,"  quoth  the  crone,  "and 
if  I  say,  thou  must  keep  thy  anger 
from  me,  for  what  I  read  I  had  not 
written : 

"/  traced  upon  her  slender  palm 
That  luck  was  changing  soon; 
I  swore  that  peace  would  come  to  her 
Before  another  moon. 

"I  said  that  he  who  loved  her  well 
Would  robe  her  all  in  silk, 
And  bear  her  in  a  coach  of  gold, 
With  palfreys  white  as  milk. 


P 


"I  told,  before  three  suns  had  set 
He'd  kneel  down  by  her  side; 
That  he  she  loved  would  love  her  well, 
And  she  would  be  his  bride. 


^    " ' This  before  three  suns  have  set,'  so 
gt:s       read  I,"  quoth  the  crone. 
*2>        Now,  when  the  Black  Earl  heard 


22 


so  much,   he  would  hear  no  more.lj 
Pallid  grew  his  angry  cheek,  and  his' 
eyes  were  full  of  fire;  he  flung  him 
self  upon  his  horse,  and,  sparing  not^ 
the  beast,  galloped  home. 

"In  the  highest  tower  shall  I  lock 
the  jade,"  quoth  he,  "lest  she  bring 
me  shame;  for  what  her  palm  had" 
writ  upon  it  one  must  believe,  and 
who  dare  love  her,  save  I  who  will£^ 
not?  And  should  I  die,  wherefore 
should  she  not  be  another's? 
should  I  not  die — but  this  no  man 
dare,  for  I  shall  tear  his  tongue  from 
his  mouth,  his  ear  from  his  cheek,  his 
heart  from  his  body,  ere  he  speak  or 
listen  to  a  word  to  my  dishonor." 

Now,  when  he  reached  his  castle, 
no  man  ventured  to  speak  to  him,  or 
look  upon  him  with  too  inquisitive 
an  eye,  for  his  anger  was  such  that 
one  trembled  to  approach  him. 

And  at  the  gate  of  his  castle  sat 
his  old  love  upon  her  palfrey,  with 
a  stem  face  and  grim;  behind  her, 

23 


s^' 


0 


^ 


f  resting  upon  their  way,  came  her  fol- 
lowers,  knight  and  lady,   gay  with 
banner  and  spear,  whispering  in  their 
'"!  telling  of  the  story. 
J:^)^      "A  curse  upon  the  wandering  feet 
that  have  brought  disgrace  upon  thy 
house,"  quoth  his  old  love,  her  hand 
i^j>,^^so  tight  upon  the  rein  that  the  two 
J^W/i  pages  could  hardly  keep  the  horse 
s^cM/|  Wroni  reanng. 

But  the  proud  Earl  to  her  made  no 

^'jianswer,  neither  to  bid  her  welcome, 

'-^ 

n^in>  /^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^^  ^^^  §°'  ^'-'^  ^^  speak  of 
his  fears.     Into  his  breast  he  locked 
his    grief  so  that  none  might  know 
^the  strain  wellnigh  broke  the  stony 
^casket  of  his  heart. 

When  he  leaped  from  his  horse 
there  came  to  him  his  little  brother. 

"My  grief!"  said  the  boy,  "what 
has  happened  in  the  night,  for  I 
heard  the  banshee  sobbing  so  bit- 
terly through  the  dark?" 

No  answer  made  the  Black  Earl  to 
c^  the  boy,  neither  did  he  lift  him  in  his 

24 


^ 


^ 


to^ 


arms  nor  chide  him  for  his  weepmg,y 
but  passed  silent  into  his  own  cham- 
ber, and  crouched  within  his  chair 
When  after  a  time  he  raised  his  eyes,>^ 
he  seemed  to  see  his  young  bride  gaz- 
ing upon  him  from  the  open  door. 
And  in  his  anger  he  sprang  to  seize -^^ 
her,  but  only  the  empty  air  came  to""'  * ' 
his  hands. 

He  mounted  the  marble  stairs 
her  chamber  to  seek  her  there,  but- 
only  found  a  sewing-maid,  pale  and-^- 
deadly  faint.  ^^ 

"Oh,  sharp  sorrow,"  quoth  she, 
"from  what  I  have  seen  this  night, 
Mary  protect  me!  A  white  ghost 
have  I  seen — evil  it  may  bring  to  me 
— a  white  ghost  with  dim  eyes  of  the 
dead!" 

"Whither  went  she?"  said  the 
Black  Earl,  angry  in  his  need. 

"Into  thy  chamber,  great  Earl!" 
cried  the  maid;  "I  saw  her  at  thy 
bed-head  weeping  piteously." 

"It    was    thy    lady,"    quoth    the 
25 


0 


^^'^' 


Earl;  "lead  me  her  way,  and  stop 
thy  lamentation." 

"My   grief!"   the   girl   said,    "her 

^way  I  know  not;  when  I,  deeming 
her  my  mistress,  reached  her  side, 
she  was  no  more.  It  is  an  evil  day 
that  Cometh  upon  us." 

Now,  when  the  proud  Roderick 
saw  the  girl  so  full  of  fear,  he  chid 

^her  cruelly  and  bade  her  go.     Yet 
•when   she   had   left    him   he   felt   a 

•^strange  and  unwonted  coldness  settle 
upon  his  heart. 

The  anger  against  his  young  bride 
was  quenched,  and  a  dewlike  fear 
grew  upon  him.  But  of  what  befell 
him  I  shall  now  sing  to  thee,  lest 
thou  grow  weary  of  my  prose: 


^ 


P 


All  silent  Black  Earl  Roderick 

Went  to  his  room  away, 
Full  angry,  with  his  throbbing  heart 

And  fitful  fancy's  play. 

He  sat  him  by  the  bright  hearth-side, 
And  turned  towards  the  door; 
26 


And  there  upon  the  threshold  stood 
His  lady,  weeping  sore. 

He  chased  her  down  the  winding  stair, 

And  otit  into  the  night, 
But  only  found  a  withered  crone, 

With  long  hair,  loose  and  white. 

"Come  hither  now,  you  sly-faced  witch; 

Come  hither  now  to  me. 
Say  if  a  lady  all  so  pale 

Your  evil  eyes  did  seeV 

"Oh,  true,  I  saw  a  little  lass. 
She  went  all  white  as  snow; 

She  crossed  my  hands  with  silver  crown 
Just  two  short  hours  ago." 

What  did  you  tell  the  foolish  wench, 
Who  must  my  lady  be? 
The  false  tale  you  did  tell  to  her 
You  now  must  tell  to  me." 

"I  hate  you,  Black  Earl  Roderick, 
You're  cruel,  hard,  and  cold; 

Yet  yoti  shall  grieve  like  a  young  child 
Before  the  moon  is  cold. 

"This  did  I  tell  her,  like  a  queen 

She'd  ride  into  the  town; 
And  every  man  who  met  her  there 

Would  on  his  knees  go  down. 

3  27 


0 


% 


If  '  /  said  that  he  who  followed  none 
^^      Would  walk  behind  her  now, 

And  in  his  trembling  hand  the  helm 
From  his  uncovered  brow. 


'm^ 


r-yx  "  Then  he  should  walk,  while  she  would  ride, 
_^/i|       Through  all  the  town  away; 


''*^  4j>^  ^wc?  greater  than  Earl  Roderick 
^.^^^      She  would  become  that  day." 


And  now  shall  I  tell  how  laughed 
^^^^.^^j^^f^'^the  Black  Earl  aloud  and  scornful  at 


'  ^<2y"M^\hQ  witch's  tale. 

fi^lSx^     "No  lady  in  the  land,"  quoth  he, 

fh}^^  "could  so  enslave  me,  and  no  woman 

Jv^^l^J   yet  was  born  who  hath  my  honor 

%  O^     So  spoke  Earl  Roderick,    and  by 

^^  these   words    shalt   thou   hold    him, 

heart-whole  and  vain  withal,  for  the 

hour    of    his    sorrow    had    not    yet 

struck. 

Now  turned  he  to  the  dame,  and, 
chiding  her,  bade  her  begone. 

"Thy  tale,"  saith  he,  "is  full  of 
weariness.  It  hath  neither  wisdom 
nor  truth." 

28 


^, 


Turning  from  her  in  anger,  home^ 
went  he,  and  flung  himself  before  the 
dying  fire  in  his  chamber,  a  frown 
between  his  brows.  And  again  a 
cold  fear  turned  closely  about  his 
heart.  Raising  his  eyes,  he  saw  no 
more  terrible  a  thing  than  his  young  ^,^^^ 
bride,  with  a  face  of  grievous  pain, 
looking  upon  him  from  the  door. 
Then  he  spoke  her  gently. 

"Come,"  quoth  he,  "sad-faced  one, 
why  dost  thou  torment  me?  One-w^-/ 
question  only  shall  I  ask  thee,  and  Q^ 
this  must  thou  answer.  Whom  hast 
thou  met  upon  the  hill?  For  the 
witch  woman  hath  told  me  a  weari- 
some tale,  which  I  shall  not  lend  my 
ear  to." 

Now,  when  he  spoke,  his  young 
bride  neither  answered  nor  came, 
but  gazed  from  the  threshold  upon 
him  in  silence.  So  he  got  up  in 
anger  and  went  her  way.  Through 
the  chamber  strode  he,  and  she  was 
yet  before  him,  and  without  sound 

29 


0 


% 


went  she  down  the  hall  and  stair. 

^So  out  through  the  open  door,  and 

m-   the  men-at-arms  let  her  pass,  though 

l^the  Black  Earl  bid  them   stay  her 

^  '^^\\  feet,    and   gazed   bewildered,    seeing 

i^dj  ^^^y  their  stern  master  running  alone, 

£X.with   fierce   eyes,    such   as   a   hound 

l^doth  cast  upon  a  young  hare.    Quick 

\^^Kjy  as  the  Black  Earl  ran,  the  little  bride 

-^^^S^if'^'was  before. 

'"^'^Mk^     Through  sleepy  woods  and  honey- 
^i;^^^  \.> perfumed    plains,    all    through    the 
night  did   he  chase  her,   but  never 
Z^^'&i^   once  did  he  reach  her,  nor  ever  once 
did  she  pause  to  rest. 
(y     When  the  morning  sun  was  high, 
,^^  she  led  him  up  to  the  lights  of  Brown 
ti>i  ^^      Kippure,    and   there   vanished   from 
his  sight. 
^  Now,   when  the   Black  Earl  per- 

/^    ceived  this  wondrous  thing,  he  felt 
his  heart  sink  with  utter  weariness, 
and  without  more  seeking  fell  upon 
the  moss.     Had  his  eyes  been  not  so 
e£i>   hot  with  anger,  slow  tears  of  sorrow 

30 


J^ 


pes 


would  have  forced  their  way  uponf ] 
his  cheeks,  for  now  that  he  had  her^^ 
not  his  desire  was  strong  upon  him. 
to  behold  his  bride. 

As  he  lay  upon  the  heather,  he.,^ 
heard  the  shrill  voice  of  his  little  S 
brother  clamoring  by  his  side. 

"Be   still,"   quoth   he,    "for   thou© 
hast  frightened  away  a  fair  dream 
that  I  fain  would  follow." 

"But  I  would  tell  thee,"  said  the[^ 
little  brother,   "of  a  strange  thing,p 
and  one  to  set  thee  full  of  laughter.  "\^ 

"Nay,"  quoth  the  Black  Earl,  "of 
that  I  have  no  desire,  lest  thou  place 
upon  my  head  a  cap  and  bells,  and^  . 
call  me  fool  Roderick. "  ^i 

"And   wherefore,"   said   the   little  ^V>^  £i 
brother,  "shouldst  thou  laugh  at  fool 
Roderick?"  0 

"Because,"  quoth  the  Black  Earl,      ^ 
"he  hath  found  a  strange  jewel  when 
he  hath  lost  it." 

"Thy  words  I  do  not  understand,"     *^ 
saith  the  Httle  brother.     "What  was     ^ 

31 


Cs* 


^< 


'''^*  ^/the  strange  jewel  that  he  hath  and 
■'yet  hath  not?" 

"Love,"  quoth  the  Black  Earl. 

'^^fW,     "That  neither  do  I  understand," 

P^Msaith   the   little  brother,    "but   now 

I y/^ thou  must  listen  to  my  story." 

"L"^     And  of  what  he  saith  shall  I  sing, 

^^>^^l.l^ifor  his  voice  was  sweeter  than  prose : 

"^^f'^-'Oh,  brother,  brother,  come  up  to  the  lake 
"f         waters  gray, 

"^l'  ^s^^*^^'^^  ^^-^  ^'^  ^^^  shore  where  I  play; 
^t^A'4^  K^^For,  oh  !  I  saw  on  the  bank  asleep 
"^^r^S^^  ■^  Z^^''  "i^hite  nymph,  and  the  slow  waves  creep, 
jsmt^^^^  To  bear  her  away,  away. 

"Oh,  brother,  brother,  I  watched  her  through 

the  day. 
Saw  her  hair  grow  jewelled  with  spray. 
Once  her  cheek  was  brushed  by  a  robin's  wing. 
And  a  finch  flew  down  on  her  hand  to  sing. 
And  was  not  afraid  to  stay. 


^ 


P 


"Oh,  brother,  brother,  will  she  soon  awaken 

be? 
I  would  that  she  laugh  with  me. 
She  sleeps,  and  the  world  so  full  of  sound; 
f^    She's  deaf,  like  the  deaths  that  are  under 
i^o  the  ground, 

<sS>    That  I  laugh  and  laugh  to  see." 

32 


Now  shall  I  tell  how  the  Biac 
Earl   heeded   not   the   story   of   the 
little  brother,  nor  the  tragedy  that 
lay  therein,  for  his  ear  was  busy  with J>: 
another  sound, 

"Hush,"  said  the  Black  Earl,  "for 
hearest  thou  not  a  voice  in  trouble?" 

"Nay,"  cried  the  little  brother;  "ip 
hear  naught  save  the  laughing  stream 
that  comes  from  the  lake  where  my^^- 
water-nymph  lieth." 

"Hush!"  said  the  Black  Earl  again,^/ 
"for  hearest  thou  not  the  voice  of  my 
mistress  making  a  lamentation?"  ^.-.-,-- 

"Nay,"    saith   the   little   brother ;3J^ 
"I  hear  naught  save  the  moving  of^  (ff^ 
the  reeds  in  the  pushing  waters,  and  ^i^> 
thou  wilt  not  listen  to  my  story."         ^V^  0 

Now  went  the  little  brother  away 
in  his  anger,  and  found  himself  a  play 
among  the  heather. 

But  the  Black  Earl  bent  above  the 
stream  and  gazed  long  into  its  shal- 
low turbulence  with  wonder  and  fear, 
,for  the  words  the  stream  said  to  him 

33 


^' 


0 


-Ste. 


|>in   its  whisperings  were   as  though 

^fS^T^spoken  in  the  voice  of  his  yoting  bride. 

He  laid  his  hand  in  the  flowing 

^waters. 

51>§i#^\     "Why    art    thou    troubled,    little 

'^  §0} stream?"  quoth  he. 

But  the  little  stream  stayed  not  its 
■^Iv  i«4^whispering. 

^^      ' '  Sainted  Mother,  oh,  pray  for  me ! " 
^x^Sf'S^*  murmured,  in  piteous  prayer,  "and 

■^  _^^leave  sweet  mercy  upon  my  soul. " 
^^1%  Now,  when  the  Black  Earl  heard 
[^n!%J^  the  voice  of  his  lady  coming  from  the 
r^m  ft'^^J^  waters  in  such  sorrow,  he  rose  with  a 
^-^  cry,  and,  his  heart  being  full  of  fear, 
'^he  knew  at  last  the  greatness  of  his 
I  love. 

"Where  art  thou,  then?"  he  cried, 
in  his  woe.  "Whither  shall  I  seek 
thee?" 

But  the  little  stream  passing  his 

feet  murmured  its  prayer  in  going; 

no  other  sound  did  he  hear  save  the 

far-away  laughter  of  his  little  brother. 

Oh,  Mary,  Mother,  pray  my  soul 

34 


to   rest!     Take  mercy,   Lord,    on   a,\ 
soul  afraid." 

"Where  are  the  lips  from  which 
thou  hast  stolen  that  cry?"  said  the 
Black  Earl;   and,    like   an   old   man/-;^ 
bent    with    trouble,    he    sought    the  "-^ 
banks,  seeking  for  the  white  form  of 
his  bride.     "Now,"  quoth  he,  "wellll 
do  I  know  this  stream  hath  carried 
her   last   cry   to   my   feet,    and   herf 
drowning   lips   have  been   forced  to- 
sinful    death    to-night   by   my    long^ 
cruelty." 

He  went  up  the  hill  as  a  man  goeth 
to  despair,  slow  and  afraid ;  and  when     ^ 
he  reached  the  little  wood  in  whose>0 
bosom   the   lake   was   enshrined,    he 
paused  and  looked  around. 

Of  this  shall  I  sing,  for  so  sad  and 
piteous  it  is  that  my  harp  would  fain 
soothe  me  from  tears : 


0 


^ 


He  looked  into  the  deep  wood  green. 
But  nothing  there  did  see; 

He  looked  into  the  still  water 
Beneath,  all  white,  lay  she. 

35 


^m 

"^#^ 


^ 


H^  t/rezy  A^r  /rom  ^^r  coZc?,  cold  bed, 
And  kissed  her  cheek  and  chin; 

Loosed  from  his  neck  his  silken  cloak, 
To  wrap  her  body  in. 

He  took  her  up  in  his  two  arms — 
His  grief  was  deep  and  wild; 

He  knelt  beside  her  on  the  sod. 
And  sorrowed  like  a  child. 

He  blew  three  blasts  upon  his  horn; 

His  men  did  make  reply. 
And  came  all  quickly  to  his  call. 

Through  brake  and  brier  so  high. 

And  every  man  who  saw  her  there 
Went  down  upon  his  knee; 

Behind  her  came  Earl  Roderick, 
All  pitiful  to  see. 

And  in  his  trembling  hand  the  helm 
From  his  uncovered  brow; 

And  "Oh,"  he  said,  "to  love  her  well, 
And  know  it  only  now  /" 

So  he  did  walk  while  she  did  ride 
Through  all  the  town  aivay. 

For  greater  than  Earl  Roderick 
She  did  become  that  day. 


gt:-^  Now  have  I  said  how  the  heart  of 

s^   the   Black  Earl  woke   to  love,   and 

36 


then  was  humbled,   as  the  ancient'^ 
crone  had  foretold;  but  of  his  sor- 
rowful years,  his  desperate  danger  of, 
eternal  loss  and  his  after-salvation, i./| 
must    I    likewise    tell,    if    the    story  j'fei' 
would  be  pitiful  in  the  ending.  ^ 

Therefore    shall    I    lay    my    harp^ 
aside,  and  so  go  back  in  my  telling.   ^ 

And  I  bid  thee  remember  how  the 
little  pale  bride  was  wont  to  sit  upon?; 
the    mountain    and    watch    the    far^,; 
lights  in  her  father's  home  quench w"; 
themselves  one  by  one. 

So  now  of  how  she  died  shall  I  tell 
thee,  and  of  what  came  to  her  in  her 
passing,  lest  thou  thinkest  so  inno- 
cent a  child  had  laid  violent  hands 
upon  her  life,  who  only  had  met 
death  through  the  breaking  of  her 
heart. 

Here  sat  she  on  the  mountain,  and     (fl\ 
the  wild  things  spoke  of  her  in  her 
silence.     The    red    weasel,    the   bee,     ^ 
and  the  bramble,  and  many  others,        c»* 
moved    to    watch    her.     Well    have     'Sfci 

37 


0 


V^f-V-, 


^they  known  her  in  her  young  joyful- 
J^ness;  here  had  she  made  the  place 
p-^she  loved  best — the  high  brow  of  the 
hill   where   she   sat   as   a  child   and 
§^^f3h  watched — on  the  one  side  the  far-off 

'^  i0'^  ^^^y  ^^^  ^^^  white  towers  that  held 
f^^the    wonder-knight    of    her    dreams. 
^i>ri%|Here  had  she  sat  and  seen  the  gleam 
''f07  of   his   spear   as   he   went   with   his 
')^)hunters    through    the    valley;    and 


I5f 


^^l^.^.^'-here,  too,  had  her  mother  come  to 
I'^v  '#tell  her  of  her  betrothal,  so  she  had 


^^  nigh  fainted  in  her  happiness,  in  look- 


^^  ing  upon  the  white  tower  that  was  to 
'^^^^.-^be  her  home. 

"  ^  ^     Here  had   she  learned   the   sweet 


^^|f^if  language   of   the  birds   and   flowers, 

X  (^••^'•^  and  they,  too,  had  partaken  of  her 

joys;  but  of  her  sorrows  they  would 

^  not  understand,  for  our  joys  and  our 

fT))    laughter,  are  they  not  as  the  singing 

of  the  bird  and  the  dancing  of  the 

fly,  who  weep  only  when  they  meet 

death?     In    our    griefs    do    we    not 

stand  alone,  who  have  in  our  hearts 

38 


the  fierce  desires  of  love  and  all 
tragedies  of  despair? 

Now,   as  the  young  bride  turned 
her  slow  feet  up  the  mountain,  down; 
where  her  glad  feet  had  turned  as  a 
maid,  she  sat  her  there  by  the  lake.    ^aZ/l 

The  little  creatures  she  was  wont 
to    love    and    understand    gathered^ 
about  her  and  wondered  at  her  state. 

"She  hath  returned,"  said  the  red 
weasel;  "see  where  she  sitteth,  her 
head  upon  her  hand.  I  slew  a  young 
bird  at  her  feet,  and  she  spake  no 
word,  nor  did  she  care." 

"  It  is  not  she,"  said  a  linnet,  sway- 
ing on  a  safe  spray,  ' '  for  had  it  been 
she  her  anger  would  have  slain  thee." 

"It  is  she,"  said  the  red  weasel, 
laughing  in  his  throat ;  ' '  but  her  eyes 
are  hidden  by  her  fingers,  and  she 
cannot  see." 

"It  is  not  she,"  said  a  brown  wren. 
"Her  cheek  was  full  and  rosy  and 
her  song  loud.  This  one  sitteth  all 
•mute  and  pale." 

39 


0 


% 


/f, 


^^ 


"It  is  she,"  said  the  red  weasel, 

"who  sitteth  upon  the  mountain,  her 

face  hidden  between  her  hands.     She 

v'si Sitteth  in  silence,  and  who  can  tell 

:IA  her  thoughts  ?     She  hath  been  to  the 

'i^/.j great  city." 

^^     "It  is  a  small  place,"  hummed  a 

v^honey-bee.     "Once,    long    ago,    she 

raised  her  white  palm  between  her 

p-Qeyes  and  its  smoke.    '  See, '  she  laugh- 

^|'<:,^ed,  'my  little  hand  can  cover  it.'" 

I W     "It  is  so  great, "  said  the  red  weasel, 

3i^  "that  those  who  leave  the  mountains 

^%<.  for  love  of  it  return  to  us  no  more." 

"Yet  she  hath   returned,"  said  a 

'lone  lark  hanging  in  the  sky,  "and 

I  myself  have  sung  beside  her  ear." 

"She   came,    yet   she   came   not," 
said  the  red  weasel.     "What  did  she 
^4  answer  when  thou  saidst  that  I  had 

slain  thy  mate?" 

"She  sighed,  'Thou  singest  a  gay 
song,   O   bird!'"   hummed   a   golden 
^^       beetle.     "My  grief!  that  she  cannot 
^  understand." 


f?^ 


40 


"She  is  lost  to  us  indeed!"  said  a\i 
honeysuckle    swaying   in   the    wind,^ 
"for  she  trod  me  beneath  her  feet 
when  I  held  my  sweet  blossoms  ^o^^^^J^^  ^ 
her  lips. 

"And  she  tore  me  aside,"  cried  the' 
wild  bramble,  "when  I  did  but  reach^ 
towards  her  for  embrace." 

"She   will   know  thee   no   more," 
said  the  red  weasel;  "she  hath  beeng 
to  the  great  city. 

"She  laid  her  lips  upon  me  ere  she^^ 
went,"  spake  the  wild  bramble,  "and 
said  she  would  return  to  us  soon." 

"She  bid  me  ring  a  merry  chime, 
whispered  the  heather,  "and  I  move^ 
my  many  bells  now  for  her  welcome, 
but  she  will  not  hear."  ^^^  0 

"She    will    speak    with    thee    no 
more,"    said   the    red    weasel;    "she  0f 

hath   walked   in   the   city,    like   one     ^ 
goeth  upon  the  fairy  sleeping  grass, 
and  her  soul  hath  forgotten  us." 

"She  is  still  and  cold,"  said  a  shin- 
ing fly  glancing  through  the  air.     "I    '^ 

41 


|>have   danced   a  measure  under   her 
'eyes,  and  she  did  not  see." 

She  is  dead,"  said  the  honey-bee, 

^4"  for  when  she  would  not  look  upon 

,„^^<\me  as  before,  I  drew  my  sword  and 

1/ 


j-«^  stung  her  sharply,  but  she  did  not 

stir.     She  sat  and  gazed  into  the  dis- 

rjtance  where  the  smoke  like  a  great 

gray  web  lieth  heavy.     She  is  surely 

^dead." 

"She  is  not  dead,"  said  the  red  wea- 
'%J'W^'^ ;  "she  hath  been  to  the  great  city." 
^i^^M^^     "Maybe    there    she    hath    found 
rn^'^ih^   Death,"  said  the  shining  fly,  "for  his 


" '  \t~-»-  web  reacheth  far,  and  he  loveth  the 

-"dark  places  and  hidden  ways.     He 

,    ^^r^hideth,  too,  in  the  cool  arbors  of  the 

t^  ^^     wood,  stretching  a  gray  chain  for  our 

undoing.     Maybe  she  found  Death. 

^i.  He  spreadeth  ropes  of  pearls  across 

r;^    our  path,  and  looketh  upon  us  from 

^       the  shade;  when  the  dance  is  gayest 

he  creepeth   to   spring.      Maybe  she 

^^       hath  reached  for  the  pearls  or  hath 

cO   danced  into  his  net." 

42 


And  so  the  fly  sang  of  the  watcher 
in  the  wood,  and  his  song  I  shall  sing 
thee,  lest  thou  grow  weary  of  my 
prose : 

Deep  in  the  wood's  recesses  cool 
I  see  the  fairy  dancers  glide, 

In  cloth  of  gold,  in  gown  of  green, 
My  lord  and  lady  side  by  side. 

But  who  has  hung  from  leaf  to  leaf, 
From  flower  to  flower,  a  silken  twine, 

A  cloud  of  gray  that  holds  the  dew 
In  globes  of  clear  enchanted  wine. 

Or  stretches  far  from  branch  to  branch, 
From  thorn  to  thorn,  in  diamond  rain? 

Who  caught  the  cup  of  crystal  wine 
And  hung  so  fair  the  shining  chain? 

'Tis  death  the  spider,  in  his  net, 
Who  lures  the  dancers  as  they  glide. 

In  cloth  of  gold,  in  gown  of  green, 
My  lord  and  lady  side  by  side. 

But  a  dragon-fly  rattling  his  armor 
said,  without  heed  of  the  singer, 
"She  is  dead,"  for  when  she  came 
among  the  heather  the  joyous  spirit 
of  the  mountain  met  her  and  blew 
4  43 


«i 


(SB* 


upon  her  hair  and  eyes.     He  kissed 

'her  worn  cheek  that  he  had  known 

so  fair,  and  the  soft  rain  of  his  sor- 

^<^^row  fell  to  see  the  pity  of  her  brow. 

^;m  She  passed  all  stiff  and  cold ;  she  did 

ilWl-J  not  hear  nor  understand. 

blow  not  so 


\|,,^      "Wind,"  quoth  she, 
Mfierce." 

s^       "She  is  not  dead,"  saith  the  red 
^^J^^weasel;  "she  hath  been  to  the  great 

\W\^     Now,  when  the  young  bride  raised 

\(\rk^  her  white  face  from  her  hands  and 

, ,    ,  ^^%<  looked  about  her,  she  could  neither 

@^^lr(».hear  the  speaking  of  the  birds  nor 

V^  C^see  the  beauty  of  the  wild  flowers, 

wnm^yet  in  her  heart  she  had  a  memory 

^^  ^p^  of  both.     Turning  to  the  little  flying 

things  that  came  about  her  with  soft, 

^  beating  wings,  she  said : 

"Once  ye  spake  to  me,  and  could 
give  comfort  with  your  counsel  and 
love.  Now  ye  are  lost  in  the  voices 
of  the  city  that  ring  forever  in  my 


p 


ears. 


44 


Gazing  upon  the  flowers,  she  said : 

"Ye,  too,  your  beauty  hath  faded. 
The  gaudy  flowers  of  the  city  have 
flashed  their  color  in  my  eyes,  so  ye 
I  cannot  see  or  understand." 

Then  she  rose  to  her  feet,  though 
she  scarce  could  stand,  and,  stretch-  ._ 
ing  her  arms  towards  the  great  pur-wii 
pie    hills    that    surrounded    her    fa- 
ther's  far   home,   she    said   towards 
it: 

"Why  didst  thou  call  me  back-: 
since  thou  hast  let  me  go  from  the 
sight  of  the  heights  that  would  have 
been  always  a  prayer  to  uplift  my 
soul?  Ahone!  that  thy  voice  was 
loud  enough  to  follow  and  give  me 
unrest,  that  whispered  always  of  my 
father's  house  and  the  valley  of  my 
home.  So  must  I  come  each  eve 
upon  this  hill  to  look  upon  it  from 
my  loneliness. 

"Unloved  am  I,  and  unwished  for, 
by  him  whom  I  have  wedded.  So 
my   heart   dieth   within   my   breast, 

45 


0 


and  my  soul  trembleth  on  the  brink 
of  my  grave. 

"Here  upon  the  mountains,  un- 
prayed  for  and  uncoffined,  shall  my 
body  lie,  for  thy  voice  hath  called 
me  forth. 

Here  my  black  sins  shall  see  and 
^pursue  me  even  to  destruction;  but 
in  the  city  I  could  have  escaped  with 
l^the  crowding  souls  that  confuse  Death 
to  count." 
Then,   as  a   remembrance   of   her 
!§n\/^^  sins  came  heavy  upon  her,  she  gave 
'^  '^'      '  ><_  a  loud  cry  and  covered  her  face  with 
;-^  her  hands. 

So  she  stood  without  help  upon  the 
mountains,  and  because  she  was 
blind  with  the  city  dust  and  deafened 
with  its  cries,  she  stood  alone.  The 
pitying  wild  flowers  blew  their  fra- 
grance to  her  eyes,  but  they  would 
not  open ;  the  gentle  birds  spoke  com- 
forting whispers  to  her  ears,  but  she 
could  not  hear;  the  great  hills  held 
their  arms  about  her  and  breathed 

46 


a<-  \ 


^\ 


their  peace  upon  her  brow.  But  this 
she  did  not  know,  and  so  stood  alone 
to  face  Death. 

First  turned  she  her  face  to  where 
her  father's  castle  stood  on  a  far  hill,  /•^ 
and  again  turned  she  to  see  the  white 
towers  where  she  had  lived  and  loved 
so  vainly.     And  when  her  eyes  met^ 
the  glisten  of  the  walls,   her   heart 
broke  with  a  little  sigh,  and  she  fell^ 
upon  the  ground.     And  she  laid  her 
weary  body  down  beside  the  waters^O, 
of  the  mountain  lake.    Her  head  with 
its  loosened  hair  lay  in  the  waters,  so 
her  lips,  covered  by  the  murmuring 
ripples,  breathed  a  prayer  as  she  died 
for  her  passing  soul.     And  the  little 
stream  that  ran  from  the  lake  down 
the  hill-side  carried  the  prayer  upon 
its  breast  as  thou  hast  been  told. 

Now,  when  the  ghost  of  the  little 
bride  stood  upright  beside  her  fallen 
body,  she  was  sore  afraid,  and  trem- 
bled much  to  leave  the  habitation 
she  had  known  in  life. 

47 


0 


She  laid  her  spirit-hands  upon  the 
:old  dead,  and  clung  to  it  as  though 
she    would    not    be    driven    forth. 
^^Many  and  terrifying  were  the  sights 
^^ftthat  met  her  when  she  opened  her 
*^  |\^eyes,  after  passing  through  the  change 
of  death.     Many  and  terrifying  were 
^^Mthe  sounds  that  came  to  her  ears,  and 
5J~if>7  she  feared  she  would  be  whirled  away 
^^^fflwith  the  great  clouds  that  passed  her 
"^     _    J^and  went  like  smoke  into  the  skies. 
^^l^^;jCold  she  was  and  drenched  with  the 
'^^^Vain  that  fell  everywhere  around  her ; 
^^  gray  and  misshapen  were  the  moving 
^;fv,  masses  under  her  gaze ;  and  only  where 
O'her  hands  lay  holding  to  her  dead 
^■^^body  did  she  see  aught  of  the  world 
she  had  left  behind.    There  the  sweet 
green  grass  lifted  itself  and  a  brier 
rose  cast  its  blossom  apart.     There  a 
bee  sang,  calling  to  her  a  little  com- 
fort  among   all   the   strange   sounds 
that  filled  her  ears. 

As    she    listened,    she    found    the 
noises   that  troubled   her   were  the 


48 


cries  of  many  voices,  and  as  she  be-^; 
gan  to  see  more  clearly  in  the  great 
change  that  had  come  to  her,   she 
knew   the    shadowy    clouds    rushing 
upward  were  the  spirits  of  the  dead/^ 
on    their    dangerous    swift    way    to  ^■ 
heaven.     And  as  she  raised  her  face 
to  follow  their  flight  the  rain  fell  salt' 
into  her  mouth,  so  she  knew  it  was 
the  repentant  tears   of  the   passing 
ghosts. 

So  crouched  she  in  that  misty  ^' 
world,  seeing  not  the  green  earth 
and  the  purple  hills,  but  only  the 
whirling  shapes  about  her  on  every 
side,  flying  from  earth  to  heaven, 
pursued  by  their  black  sins. 

And  one  in  the  valley  of  Baile-ata- 
Cliat,  looking  towards  the  mountains, 
said: 

"See  how  the  clouds  fly  black  and 
fearful!"  But  it  was  the  hosts  of 
spirits  flying  upward.  "See,"  quoth 
he,  "how  the  lightning  flashes!" 
But   it   was   the   opening   of   God's 

49 


0 


^ 


ijHigh  Paradise  to  receive  some  spir- 
it wellnigh  spent.     "Hark,"  said  he, 
f^  "how  the  wind  moans  and  the  rain 
^beats    upon    the   window!"     But    it 
;was  the  cry  of  the  passing  ghosts  and 
^  their  falling  tears  as  their  black  sins 
^fought  and  kept  them  from  heaven. 
|:^     But  one  who  was  a  singer  took  his 
^  harp   and  sang,   for  he  understood. 
^^v/J  •«Here  is  his  song : 

%Q^^^  ^They  say  it  is  the  wind  in  midnight  skies, 
-■    '^^^-^"^"*     Loud   shrieking   past    the   window,    that 
doth  make 
Each  casement  shudder  with  its  storm  of 
cries. 
And  the  barred  door  with  pushing  shoul- 
der shake. 


Ah  no,  ah  no,  it  is  the  souls  pass  by. 

Their  lot  to  run  from,  earth  to  God^s  high 
place. 
Pursued  by  each  black  sin  that  death  let  fly 
From  their  sad  flesh,  to  break  them  in  the 
chase. 


I^    They  say  it  is  the  rain  from  leaf  to  leaf 
^'^  Doth    slip    and    roll    into    the    thirsting 

e^  ground, 

50 


That  where  the  corn  is  trampled 
sheaf 
The  heavy  sorrow  of  the  storm  is  found. 

Ah  no,  ah  no,  it  is  repentant  tears. 

By  those  let  fall  who  make  tJieir  direful 
■flight, 
And  drop  by  drop  the  anguish  of  their  fears 
Comes   down   around   us   all   the   awful  . 
night.  S^ff'^ 

They  say  that  in  the  lightning-flash,   and 
roar 
Of  clashing  clouds,  the  tempest  is  about;  5 
And  draw  their  chairs  the  glowing  hearth'^-} 
before,  '^" 

And  casement  close  to  shut  the  danger  out 

Ah  no!  the  doors  of  Paradise  they  swing 
A  moment  open  for  a  soul  nigh  spent, 

Then  come  together  till  the  thunder's  ring 
Leaves  us  half  blinded  by  God's  eletnent. 


% 


Now,  the  spirit  of  the  young  bride 
was  not  yet  called  upon  to  join  their 
terrible  flight,  for  until  her  body  was 
laid  beneath  the  clay  the  soul  had 
power  to  stay  beside  it.  So  stayed 
the  spirit  of  the  young  bride  by  her 
dead  body  till  her  ghostly  eyes  grew    ^^j^ 

51 


0 


ex* 


accustomed  to  the  change  which  had 

come  to  her.     And  when  she  found 

she  could  see  the  brown  earth  again 

^^  „^and  the  things  thereon,  she  rose  to 

"^i0>\  her  feet,  and  ran  down  the  moun- 

Wy    tains  to  the  castle  of  Black  Roderick, 

and   there   called   thrice   beside   the 


r-^gate,  and  for  her  it  was  opened  by 
^  the  little  brother,  who  gazed  affright- 
v-ir^ed  and  ran  from  her. 

i5     V 


"What  hath  come  to  thee?"  quoth 
u^she,  and  came  upon  him  in  his  fear. 
^J^      And  he  looked  not  to  her,  but  spake 
{^f^^^&  to  a  knight-at-arms,  saying  thus : 
\^M^s!l:-^       "Three   times   cried   the  voice   of 
ly  brother's  wife  at  the  gates,  and 
^)when   I    opened   for   her   there   was 
none  outside." 

So  the  little  bride,  hearing,  cried 
^  out  in  her  despair,  for  she  had  for- 

gotten  that   she   was   no   longer   as 
these  others. 

And  when  the  two  heard  the  cry, 
they  were  affrighted,  and  made  the 
e:Q>  cross  upon  their  foreheads. 

52 


It   is   the   banshee,"    quoth   the\ 
knight,  "who  weeps  for  some  death.' 

Seeing  they  feared  her,  the  little 
bride  passed  sadly  into  the  castle, 
and  timidly  sought  the  chamber 
where  the  Black  Earl  was  gone  to 
crouch  by  the  glowing  fire. 

Now,  when  Black  Roderick  looked^ 
up  and  saw  her,  he  sprang  towards 
her  so  she  was  afraid,  and  flitted  be-[^ 
fore  him  like  a  shadow 
he  followed  up   the   stair    and  into^' 
his  own  chamber,  she  faded   like  a 
shadow  in  the  sunshine  that  came 
through  the  window,  and  the  wind, 
coming    down   from   the    mountains' 
and  passing  through  the  casement, 
drew  her  out  upon  its  breast,   and 
bore  her  back  to  the  hills  where  her 
body  lay  awaiting  its  burial. 

And  seeing  it  there,  a  misery  fell 
upon  her,  so  she  raised  her  head  and 
wept. 

"Ahone!"  quoth  she,  "poor  body 
that  hath  no  one  to  weep  over  thy 

53 


^ 
1^-^ 


0 


^\ 


vloneliness,  that  must  lie  uncoffined 

^  ^-and  unprayed  for,  who  wast  so  ten- 

/^  derly  cared  for  in  thy  life!     Where 

N^art  thou,  my  father,  where  art  thou, 

my    mother,    that    this    should    be? 

And  where  is  he  to  whom  this  poor 

body  was  given  to  cherish  and  to 

«love?" 

And  again  she  went  to  the  castle 
lof  Black  Roderick,  and  stood  beside 
his  door,  the  tears  undried  upon  her 
N^cheek.  And  again  sprang  he  tow- 
^^  ards  her,  so  she  was  afraid,  and  flew 
before  him  down  the  winding  stair 
and  out  into  the  night,  so  he  could 
no  longer  see  her. 

And  again  the  spirit  of  the  young 
bride  went  back  to  the  dead  upon 
the  hill-side,  and,  seeing  it  unburied 
and  uncoffined,  fell  into  tears. 

"Never,"  saith  she,  "shall  I  now 
reach  heaven,  if  my  body  lieth  with- 
out a  grave!" 

And  so  sad  was  her  soul  at  the 
tiQ>   thought  that  she  went  in  her  despair 

54 


P 


.5X3 


to  the  castle  of  the  Black 

stood  again  upon  his  threshold  full 

of  tears. 

And  when  he  looked  up  and  saw 
her  he  was  no  longer  fierce,  but  spake 
to  her  gently. 

"Come  hither,"  quoth  he,  "my 
sad-faced  bride.  I  would  but  ask 
thee  one  question.  Come  beside  my 
chair." 

But  she  answered  him  not  at  all, 
but  withdrew  from  his  presence,  as 
though  bidding  him  follow. 

Out  into  the  night  he  followed, 
and  pursued  her  without  rest,  till 
she  almost  reached  the  high  hill 
where  her  body  lay  uncoffined. 

And  when  they  came  in  the  morn- 
ing to  the  little  grove  upon  the  side 
of  the  mountain,  she  felt  a  hand 
touch  the  poor,  unmourned-for  dead, 
and,  with  a  great  fear  upon  her, 
vanished  from  his  eyes;  so  he  fell 
upon  the  moss  in  his  disappointment 
and  weariness. 

55 


^^ 


<3. 


C^K* 


^ 


But  the  spirit  of  the  little  bride 

,  ff  flew  to   the   side   of   her  uncoffined 

'«-  body  to  protect  it  from  desecration 

i^t^ere    her   lord    had    looked   upon   it. 

'f^^^^And  there  she  saw  the  little  brother 

|V/^  playing  by  the  dead. 

And  as  she  came  he  turned  and 

i/^|<l^an  down  the  mountain,  for  he  had 

vMw^  heard  the  voice  of  Black  Roderick 

balling;    so    the    spirit    of   the   little 

^c3bride  knew  her  task  was  done.     And 

J^'^^of  how  the   Black   Earl  found  her, 

and  of  what  he  said  and  did,  have  I 

told  thee;  but  of  how  the  spirit  of 

the  young  bride   enwrapped   herself 

about  the  dead  I  have  not  spoken, 

^"^nor  of  how  she  thrilled  beneath  the 

embraces  of  her  lord,  whose  love  she 

had  at  the  last. 

When  he  stood  beside  her  deep 
grave,  that  was  dug  in  the  little 
church-yard  nigh  to  the  castle,  her 
spirit  rose  again  from  her  body,  and 
knew  her  hour  of  trial  had  come. 
And  when  the  grave  was  closed 
S6 


■■^' 


and  the  mourners  gone,   the 
stayed  by  the  grave,  afraid. 

When  evening  came,  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  rose  in  a  white  mist,  ea 
above  his  grave,  and  all  prepared  for 
their  swift  and  dangerous  flight  tow- 
ards the  dark  heavens. 

"Now,"  saith  she,  "my  body  can 
no  longer  protect  me  with  its  earthly 
presence.     I  am  separated  from  the^i' 
world,    and   am   no   more   of   it 
must  arise  and  meet  death  alone. 

The  first  thing  she  knew  of  the 
great  presence  was  a  loud  whirring  of 
wings;  she  raised  her  head,  and  saw 
around  her  a  crowd  of  evil  birds 
So  afraid  was  she  that  she  gave  a 
loud  and  sudden  cry,  and  at  the 
sound  the  ill  birds  rose  and  hovered 
in  the  air  between  her  and  heaven. 

"My  sins  have  discovered  me,"  she 
cried,  "and  now  I  fear  death!" 

And  because  she  knew  that  before 
dawn  she  would  have  to  account  for 
her  evil  deeds,  she  lifted  up  her  voice 

57 


(T) 


0 


in  loud  keening.     So  sad  was  her  cry 

that  the  pitying  wind  bore  it  down 

upon  his  wings  into  the  little  village 

^at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  that  the 

>\  people  might   hear  and  pray  for  a 

^isoul  in  its  passing. 

But  the  people  in  the  village  were 
busy  even  so  late  with  the  harvest, 
and  did  not  hear;  only  in  one  house 
jwhere  a  mother  sat  with  her  sick 
•child  did  the  cry  come,  and  she 
^?5  X^  ^^l^closed  the  shutter  and  fell  to  prayer. 

"^^^f^w^tl^      "  "^^^  ''^^^  banshee  who  crieth,"  she 

whispered,  "and  my  Conneen  so  ill! 

'Tis  the  banshee,  and  Sheila  with  the 

cheek  of  snow.     God  bid  the  fairy 

^I^pass,  and  set  the  angels  at  my  door! 

t^  P"^^  Whisht!  "she  cried  to  the  playing  young 

ones, ' '  come  beside  my  chair  and  pray. ' ' 

^  And  of  her  fear  shall  I  sing,  lest 

thou  grow  weary  of  my  prose: 

Oh,  whisht !  I  hear  the  banshee  keen, 
f^  All  wo  Jul  is  her  cry. 

e^  She  comes  along  the  gray  horeen — 

5^25-  Pray  God  she  pass  us  by. 

S8 


My  wee  Conneen  is  pale  and  weak, 

I  hold  him  to  my  side; 
The  rose  is  white  on  Sheila's  cheek 

Since  her  young  lover  died. 

The  little  children  from  their  play 

Creep  to  me  full  of  fear; 
' '  Oh,  whisht !  the  banshee  comes, ' '  they  say : 

"Whom  does  she  weep  for  here?" 


But  Sheila  leaves  my  chair  to  go, 

And  flings  the  shutter  wide; 
"Be  it  for  me,"  she  whispers  low, 

"  The  banshee  keened  and  cried." 

God  be  between  our  house  and  harm, 

For  trouble  comes  full  fleet. 
I  hold  the  babe  close  in  my  arm; 

The  fairy  in  the  street. 

But  the  wind  that  blew  from  the 
hill -side  carried  the  keening  of  the 
little  bride  past  the  village,  and  blew 
it  about  the  windows  of  the  castle 
wherein  Black  Roderick  dwelt.  And 
as  the  cry  keened  and  called,  so  did 
the  sleepers  turn  in  their  beds  and 
moan  uneasily  in  their  dreaming. 

When  the  cry  passed  the  windows 
s  59 


0 


ex* 

<Sfc> 


foi  the  east',  Yt  went  to  the  windows  of 
the  west,  and  there  it  tapped  softly 
with  fingers  of  the  wind  and  called 
three  times: 

"Roderick!  Roderick!  Roderick!" 
And  at  the  first  call  Black  Roderick 
turned  in  his  bed  and  groaned.     And 
:at  the  second  call  he  rose  from  his 
couch  and  said,  in  his  anger: 

"Who  calleth,  and  will  not  let  me 
^rest?" 


>?\.\     But  at  the  third  call  he  rose  and 
^^  Vent  to  the  window  in  wonder,  and 
^5,  seeing    nothing    he    crept    cold    and 
trembling  to  his  bed,  muttering  the 
alf-forgotten  prayers   of  his   child- 
hood;   so    long    he  lay  in  fear  and 
amazement  that  he  did  not  sleep  till 
the  lark  hung  singing  in  the  heavens, 
and  then  he  knew  the  night  was  gone 
and  with  it  the  ghosts  that  hide  in 
the  darkness.     So  he  turned  his  face 
to  the  wall  and  slept.     But  the  spirit 
of  the  little  bride  was  speeding  on 
her  swift  and  terrible  race  to  Para- 

60 


dise,  and  round  her  whirled  three^ 
great  black  birds  seeking  for  her  de 
struction.  And  as  she  flew,  one 
caught  her  by  the  long  hair  that 
swept  behind  her  in  the  wind  and 
drew  her  backward. 

"Now,"  quoth  she  with  a  cry,  "I 
can  fly  upward  no  longer;  some  evilt 
thing  draws  me  back  from  heaven." 

And  as  she  spoke  a  voice  came  out 
of  the  dark  skies,  and  said: 

"Who  holdeth  back  the  passing 
soul?" 

And  the  voice  of  the  dark  bird  re- 
plied : 

"Her  anger,  for  she  hath  not  sub- 
mitted to  her  trials,  but  held  herself 
rebellious;  therefore  do  I  draw  her 
down." 

And  the  voice  from  high  paradise 
called  out,  saying: 

"Is  there  none  to  come  to  her  suc- 
cor, lest  she  be  brought  to  her  de- 
struction?" 

And  a  bee  humming  on  the  hill- 
6i 


0 


Ok 
-Ste 


,<^ 


■  side,  hearing  the  voice,  flew  upward 

^and   stung   the   evil   bird   so   it  fell 

,away  into  the  darkness  and  was  seen 

no  more. 

.,,  ^J^\     And  the  voice  from  the  heavens 


^^  A3^  cried  again,  saying : 


\V. 


"Who  hath  let  the  little  soul  go 


<^;J^free?" 
■  "^''-^—  '•things,  great  and  small,  and  hath  fed 


And  the  bee  answered: 

"Her  gentleness,  for  she  loveth  all 

Aw\^^the   honey-bee   when   the   earth   re- 


f^f\f>,  A^^  fused  him  its  sweets." 
^^C^4<       Now,    as   the    spiril 


^ 


spirit  of  the  little 
bride  flew  upward,  freed  from  the 
grasp  of  the  evil  bird,  there  came 
upon  her  again  the  cruel  claws  of 
one  of  those  two  others  that  circled 
round  her,  holding  her  back  upon  her 
way, 

"Now,"  quoth  she,  "I  shall  never 
see  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  can- 
not reach  the  doors  of  paradise," 
and  bitter  exceedingly  was  her  cry- 
ing. 

62 


But  again  a  voice  came  from  thetj 
dark  night,  saying: 

"Who   holdeth   back  the 
soul  from  her  place  in  heaven?" 

And  the  black,  evil  bird  answered :  fj^'^ 

"Her   despair,    for   she   hath   not^wf 
held  her  head  high  above  her  sor-  ^ 
rows,  nor  hath  borne  in  patience  her^ 
griefs,  but  hath  mourned  the  afflic-  ^vji^-^ 
tions  that  were  put  upon  her  till  her^^v 
heart  hath  broken  under  her  grief  "' 
Therefore  do  I  draw  her  down." 

And  the  voice  from  high  paradise 
called  out,  saying: 

"Is  there  none,  then,  to  save  her 
from  eternal  destruction?" 

And  a  wild  bramble  upon  the 
mountain,  hearing  the  voice,  lifted 
itself  upward,  and,  throwing  a  long 
spray  about  the  evil  bird,  tore  it  so 
with  its  thorns  that  it  loosed  its 
claws  from  the  wrist  of  the  young 
bride  and  flew  into  the  gloom. 

And  the  voice  from  the  heavens 
cried  again,  saying: 

63 


^ 


^ 


m 


\:ii 


Who  hath  let  the  soul  go  free?" 
And  the  bramble  answered,  waft- 
p.    ing  the  perfume  of  her  flowers  up- 

M  ward : 
-^^n        Her  sweetness,   for  her  mind  is 
^^^'^^  beautiful  as  the  song  of  the  linnet, 
and   she  turneth   her  foot   aside  to 
K/'JIgspare  the  lowly  blossoms." 
^'f^       Now,  when  once  more  the  spirit  of 
//f^the  little  bride  flew  upward,  the  last 
M^'^sind   greatest   of   the   evil   birds  fell 
ffi^upon  her,  and  so  strong  was  he  and 
Cfsf-r^^^^so  evil  that  she  had  no  strength  to 
^^5,  go  farther. 
^"^ -'>'-"■'■>' ^       "Now,"  quoth  she,  "I  am  lost  for- 

(^ever,  and  shall  see  not  the  fair  place 
Tfin   paradise    that   was   prepared   for 
me."     And  she  gave  a  loud  and  de- 
spairing   cry.     But    a    voice    came 
again  from  the  night,  and  saith: 

"What  evil  thing  keepeth  the  fly- 
ing soul  upon  its  way?" 

And  the  dark  bird  answered: 
"Her  jealousy,  for  bitter  was  her 
heart  against  one  whom  Black  Rod- 

64 


X^^^ 
^ 


erick  had  loved  ere  she  became  his"; 
bride;  and  for  this  do  I  drag  her' 
down  to  her  destruction." 

And    the    voice    from    the    high^^^^^  ^ 
heavens  spoke,  saying :  -     -         - 

"Is  there  none,  then,  to  save 
her?" 

And  there  looked  up  from  the  hill-^ 
side  the  bright  eyes  of  the  red  wea- 
sel, but  he  crouched  in  the  grasses^ 
without    reply.     And    the    grasp   of- 
the    evil    bird    became    stronger  on- 
the   quivering    soul    that    could    no" 
longer  fly  upon  its  way  to  heaven. 
And  from  the  great  wings  of  the  bird 
black  feathers,  wrenched  out  in  the' 
struggle,  flew  down  upon  the  earth, 
spreading  evil  where  they  fell. 

And  the  voice  from  heaven  cried 
out  again  in  sorrow  exceedingly: 

"Is  there  none,  then,  to  save  this 
soul  from  destruction?" 

And  the  bee  and  the  bramble,  see- 
ing the  red  weasel  was  loath  to  stir 
from  the  grasses  where  he  sat  watch- 

65 


0> 


% 


fing  the  desperate  battle,  fell  upon 


f^him  in  their  fury  and  forced  him  to 
m-  rise. 
>^^^  "Never,"  quoth  they,  "shalt  thou 
ifC^  have  rest,  nor  thy  children's  children 
jm-^  peace,  while  there's  a  bee  in  the  air 
or  a  flower  upon  the  thorn,  if  thou 


^;Pk^|^goest  not  to  the  succor  of  her  we 

^^Kn  love  so  well." 

^^^y%    Then  the  red  weasel  sprang  into 

^''^c^the  air  and  seized  the  evil  bird  by 

S\jM%^h!^  throat;  so  he  let  go  his  hold  on 

"^  the   spirit   of   the  young  bride   and 

<^P^^Sk  ^'^^  away  into  the  darkness. 
<^Ut?l.i/      p^^^  ^i^g  voice  from  heaven  cried 

-^out,  saying: 

"Who  hath  let  the  frail  ghost  free 
to  enter  the  gates  of  paradise?" 
And  the  red  weasel  answered: 
"Her  strength,  for  she  hath  con- 
j^    quered  her  own  evil  thoughts,   and 
put  them  away  forever." 

So  the  spirit  of  the  young  bride 

^       reached  the  gates  of  paradise  spent 

eGf  and  wounded,   and  there  upon  the 

66 


threshold  stood  an  angel  holding  his-y 
hand  to  draw  her  in. 

When  his  holy  touch  fell  upon  her, 
she  rose  whole  and  beautiful,  and  her- 
breast  was  full  of  joy  for  the  moment.  (■'}^ 

Now,  the  spirit  of  the  young  bride 
had   been   but   a   brief   day   in   the 
golden  place  of  paradise,  when  she^ 
heard  a  far  voice  call  upon  her  name 
in  anguish;  three  times  did  it  call^ 
upon  her,  and  at  each  cry  a  sharpy 
sorrow  struck  her  heart,  as  though  ^WM 
knife  had  entered  therein.  ^ 

Now  went  she  to  the  golden  bar  of 
heaven,  and,  leaning  forth,  looked 
down  upon  the  earth,  and  she  turned' 
her  north,  and  naught  did  she  see 
save  the  cold  face  of  the  night  with 
its  millions  of  worlds  whirling  in  the 
dark.     And   she   looked   south,    and  ^ 

naught  could  she  see  but  the  gray  of  ^^ 
clouds  heavy  with  storm;  and  she  ^ 
turned  her  east,  and  naught  did  she 
see  save  the  shimmering  blue  of  a 
summer  sky.     But  when  she  turned 

67 


0 


^ 


J2>> 


r.^J 


er  westward,  she  saw  the  green 
earth,  and  of  all  upon  it  she  sought 
inone  save  Black  Roderick,  who  had 
used  her  so  ill.  And  there  upon  his 
bed  he  lay  in  danger  of  death,  and  as 
he  turned  in  his  anguish  he  called 
ever  upon  her  name,  so  her  heart 
knew  no  longer  the  peace  of  para- 
dise, and  she  became  as  one  of  the 
[lost/ 

Therefore  did  she  rise  up  and  ap- 
jproach  the  throne  where  the  saints 
and  angels  knelt  in  continual  devo- 
tion. But  she  could  not  see  the 
golden  seat,  nor  Him  who  sat  thereon. 
For  around  and  above,  and  circling 
ever  with  rainbow  wings,  went  the 
seraphim  and  cherubim  in  eternal 
worship,  so  it  was  as  though  a  great 
wheel  of  light  turned  continually. 

Now,  when  the  spirit  of  the  little 
bride  saw  this  wonder,  she  was  full 
of  fear  and  dared  not  approach,  but 
turned  away  weeping;  and  there,  as 
she  wept,  she  saw  before  her  the  seat 

68 


of  Mary,  the  Queen  of  Heaven,  and 
ran  towards  it  with  unfaltering  feet. 

"For,"  quoth  she,  "she,  too,  had 
but  one  love,  and,  being  woman,  will 
understand." 

So  she  knelt  at  the  feet  of  Mary, 
and    cried    to    her:    "Pray   for    me. 
Mother  of  Christ."     And  the  Virging 
turned  to  her  in  wonder  at  her  tears. 

"Art  thou  not  happy,"  said  she, 
"in  heaven?" 

.  And  the  spirit  of  the  little  bride  i^^ 
said:  "Nay,  for  the  cries  of  my  be- 
loved come  upward  from  the  earth 
and  call  to  me  in  his  anguish,  so  I 
fear  he  is  in  danger  of  death." 

"And  why  doth  thou  fear  death 
for  him,"  said  the  Virgin  Mary, 
"since  it  may  bring  to  him  the  hap- 
piness of  heaven?" 

"Alas!"  said  the  little  bride,  "were 
it  thus,  his  cries  would  not  hurt  my 
heart  so  that  I  cannot  hear  the  song 
of  the  angels.     I  fear  he  is  lost  for- 


0 


ever. 


69 


ns^^ 


^ 


And  what  canst  thou  do,  little 
soul,"  said  the  Blessed  Mary,  "to 
save  him  if  he  cannot  save  himself?" 

' '  I  can  be  with  him  in  his  destruc- 
tion." 

Now,  as  the  little  soul  said  this 
terrible  thing  she  fell  forward  upon 
|her  face,  so  afraid  was  she  and  so 
despairing. 

"I  can  stand  between  him  and  the 
flames,"  said  she,  "and  hold  my 
ihand  beneath  the  burning  waters 
that  would  fall  upon  his  body." 

And  then  she  lay  silent. 
.^^^    Then  the  Virgin  looked  upon  her 
^with  eyes  that  were  all  pitiful  and 
had  much  understanding. 

"Thou  wilt  suffer,"  saith  she,  as 
though  remembering  something,  "to 
walk  by  his  side  and  see  his  anguish, 
but  thou  wouldst  suffer  more  wert 
thou  forbidden  this." 

So  Mary  rose  from  her  high  place 
and  went  towards  the  high  throne  of 
«/!>  heaven,  and  as  she  passed  the  whirl- 

70 


# 


ing  wings  of  the  seraphim  and 
ubim  ceased  to  circle,  but  flew 
ards  her  from  the  throne.     And  ^'^^L^r^^^ 
the  little  bride,  who  crouched  afraid^^~S>=^ 
on  the  fragrant  floor,   it  seemed  as/;^ 
though  a  great  wonder  of  bees  had 
settled  on  some  hidden  sweet;  count-^^^?7 
less  wings  glistened   and  flashed   inp 
the  strange  light  that  glowed  from  ^r 
the  opening  flowers  that  formed  thegf"^' 
floor  about  the  throne.  '■^- 

In   and   out,    striking  together  in-^/ 
their   eagerness   to   get   nearer  their  ^^ 
desire,  went  the  countless  wings  of 
the  angel  hosts. 

And  from  the  throne  all  the  time' 
there  came  forth  a  low  singing  like 
the  humming  of  bees.  As  the  little 
bride  listened  there  came  to  her  ears 
the  voice  of  the  Virgin  praying  for 
her  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  in 
the  pauses  of  the  prayer  the  count- 
less voices  of  the  fluttering  seraphim 
and  cherubim  took  up  the  refrain, 
"Hear  us,  O  Christ." 

71 


0 


Now   suddenly   all   sound   ceased, 

and  the  fluttering  wings  moved  aside, 

and  from  their  midst  strode  out  a 

p$ mighty  angel  of  the  Lord;  and  when 

he  came  upon  the  frightened  soul  of 

the  little  bride  he  took  her  by  the 

,,-«^hand,  and,  leading  her  to  the  gates 

^!2§of   heaven,    opened    them   that    she 

might  go  forth. 

But  ere  she  could  pass  out  he  said, 
with  great  sadness: 

Thy  little  hands  and  feet  are  soft 


p^r^  /^^  with  the  fragrant  places  of  heaven ; 
""^  '         '    much  wilt  thou  suffer  if  thou  goest 
iorth." 

And  again  he  said: 
' '  How  canst  thou  leave  the  beauty 
and  love  of  paradise,  wherein  thou 
mayst  enter  no  more  save  thou  art 
strong  enough  to  conquer  great  dan- 
gers?" 

But  the  little  soul  listened  not  to 

him,  but  passed  through  the  gates  in 

eager  hurry.     And  as  she  went  the 

tii>  angel   followed    her   with    his   gaze; 

72 


P 


and  so  great  was  his  pity — for  he 
thought  she  might  not  re-enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven — that  tears  fell 
from  his  eyes  upon  her  hand.  Now, 
when  the  little  bride  went  forth  from 
the  gates  of  heaven  a  chill  wind  blew 
upon  her,  so  she  wellnigh  fell  upon 
the  earth  in  anguish;  but  she  took' 
the  two  tears  that  had  fallen  from 
the  angel's  eyes  and  hid  them  in  her 
heart,  and  she  became  warm,  and 
the  sharp  earth  did  not  hurt  her  feet, 
nor  did  the  wind  of  the  cold  world 
harm  her. 

Now,  when  the  spirit  of  the  little 
bride  came  to  the  gates  of  the  castle 
wherein  dwelt  Black  Roderick,  she 
saw  the  great  changes  that  had  come 
to  pass  therein,  for  the  day  that  had 
fallen  to  her  in  paradise  was  as 
seven  years  on  earth. 

With  her  death  had  come  strife 
and  disunion  among  the  clans,  and 
now  at  the  walls  stood  the  soldiers 
of   her   father,    and   within   on   his 

73 


0 


^ 


<3. 


Ce* 


^ 


-^« 


^ 


f^Jf 


X.:^^i 


P 


i'death-bed  the  Black  Earl  who  was 
^dying,  a  prisoner  in  their  hands. 
And  as  the  little  bride  came  to  the 

^gates  of  the  garden  without  the  court- 
yard, she  saw  before  them  a  strange 
and  horrible  coach.     And  the  only 
light  that  came  from  this  dark  car- 
friage  was  from  the  red  eyes  of  the  six 
horses  who  drew  it,  and  their  trap- 
)ings  swept  the  ground,  black  and 
•mouldy.     Now,    the    body    of    this 

^i^coach  was  shaped  like  a  coffin,  and 

S  at  the  head  sat  the  driver. 

i  When  the  little  bride  gazed  upon 
him  in  wonder  who  he  could  be,  she 
saw  through  the  misty  winding-sheet 
that  enfolded  him  a  death's  head. 
But  when  she  looked  at  him  who  sat 
at  the  foot  of  the  coffin,  she  hid  her 
face,  for  it  was  an  evil  creature  who 
crouched  here. 

Now,  as  the  little  bride  paused  at 
the  gate  of  the  garden  a  voice  came 
from  inside,  and  said: 

"Wherefore  comest  thou?" 
74 


.b.^ 


And  he  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the) 
coffin  answered :  ^^ 

"Open,  for  I  claim  the  soul  of 
Black  Roderick." 

And  the  voice  that  was  within  an-  W 
swered : 

"Thou  shalt  come,  for  his  cruelty ^^i 
hath  driven  my  young  daughter  toV  ' 
her   grave,   wherein   she   lieth   while^^^l 
the  birds  sing,  and  the  flowers  blos-^  '^ 
som,    and    the    earth    is   glad    withj^ 
youth  and  spring." 

So  he  dropped  the  bolt  and  the 
door  swung  open,  so  the  coach  and 
its  six  horses  entered. 

Now,  when  the  driver  reached  the 
door  of  the  court-yard,  he  found  it 
closed  against  him,  and  he  drew  his 
coach  up  beside  it  and  called  in  a 
hollow  voice  for  entrance. 

And  one  cried  from  inside:  (^ 

"Wherefore  comest  thou?" 

And  he  who  was  inside  answered: 

"I  claim  the  soul  of  Black  Rod- 
erick." 

6  75 


B 


*^2s,- 


And  the  voice  replied: 

Willingly  do  I  open,  for  he  hath 

IP     slain  my  sweet  sister  with  his  chill 

t^  heart  and  cruel  ways,  so  she  lieth  in 

f^N\  the  dark  earth  who  was  the  sunshine 

of  our  house." 

Then  the  door  swung  open  so  the 
2^  black  coach  and  its  six  horses  could 
^.^  enter. 
^-c^ns^^I  >^      Again  the  strange  coach  drove  on, 
6?^^  till  it  came  to  the  castle  door,  and 
^W\^f  there  the  evil  being  who  was  inside 
*^^"^'^  cast  himself  upon  the  ground,  and, 
going  to  the  door,  knocked  thereon 
three   times,    and   a   woman's   voice 
answered,  saying: 
"Who  art  thou?" 
And  the  evil  one  replied: 
"I  am  he  who  claims  the  soul  of 
Black  Roderick." 

And  the  woman  said: 

"Welcome  thou  art,  then,  for  he 

hath  destroyed  my  heart's  treasure 

and  buried  it  in  the  ground;  so  I  go 

sorrowing  all  my  days  for  the  suffer- 

76 


P 


ing  he  caused  her  on  earth,  and  ior'y 
her  young  and  unready  death."  ^ 

Then  the  bolts  and  the  bars  fell 
from  the  door  with  a  great  noise, 
and  the  evil  thing  entered  the  castle. 

Now,  as  Black  Roderick  lay  upon 
his  death-bed  tossing  and  turning  in 
his  fever,  there  rushed  unto  him  one 
of  the  serving-men  in  a  great  terror 
and  fear. 

And  of  what  they  spoke  togetherj^ 
shall    I    sing   thee,    lest   thou   grow 
weary  of  my  prose: 

There  is  one  at  the  door,  O  my  master, 
At  the  door,  who  is  bidding  you  come! 

Who  is  he  that  wakes  me  in  the  darkness. 
Calling  when  all  the  world's  dumb  f 

Six  horses  has  he  to  his  carriage. 
Six  horses  blacker  than  the  night; 

And  their  twelve  red  eyes  in  the  shadozvs 
Twelve  lamps  he  carries  for  his  light. 


P 


And  his  coach  is  a  coffin  black  and  mouldy, 

A  huge  oak  coffin  open  wide; 
He  asks  for  your  soul,  God  have  mercy! 

Who  is  calling  at  the  door  outside. 

77 


<Ste. 


\x>^#® 


^ 


Who  let  him  through  the  gates  of  my  garden, 
Where  stronger  bolts  have  never  been  ? 

^Twas  the  father  of  the  fair  little  lady 
You  drove  to  her  grave  so  green. 

And  who  let  him  pass  through  the  court-yard. 
By  loosening  the  bar  and  chain  f 

Oh,  who  but  the  brother  of  your  mistress 
Who  lies  in  the  cold  and  the  rain! 

Then  who  drew  the  bolts  at  the  portal 
And  into  my  house  bade  him  go  ? 

She,  the  mother  of  the  poor  little  colleen 
Who  lies  in  her  youth  so  low. 

Who  stands  that  he  dare  not  enter 
The  door  of  my  chamber  between  ? 

Oh,  the  ghost  of  the  fair  little  lady 
Who  lies  in  the  church-yard  green. 

Now,  when  the  evil  one  saw  the 
spirit  of  the  young  bride  at  the  door, 
her  arms  spread  out  in  the  form  of  a 
cross,  he  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
And  had  not  Black  Roderick,  in  his 
joy  and  desire,  sprung  from  his  bed 
on  hearing  the  voice  of  his  mistress 
bidding  him  fear  not,  all  perchance 
had  gone  well. 

78 


But  Roderick,  sick  and  eager  for^ 
the  sight  of  his  bride,  flung  open  the 
door,  and  was  seized  by  the  evil  one 
and  carried  away.     Now,  the  spirit^^ 
of  the  Httle  bride  followed  the  hor-/'^^ 
rible  coach  that  contained  her  love,  ^ 
even  to  the  flaming  gates  of  hell,  and 
there  the  evil  one  stopped  and  looked^ 
upon  her  with  desire, 

"Better,"  quoth  he,  "a  thousandp^^ 
times  to  let  go  this  wretched  fellow, - 
who  will  surely  return  to  me  later,  if  ■^ 
I  can  gain  this  soul  who  hath  come  ^|^ 
even  out  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

And,  turning  to  the  poor  little 
bride,  he  said: 

"Give  thou  thyself  to  me,  and  I 
will  let  this  love  of  thine  return  to  the 
world  to  work  out  his  redemption." 

But  the  little  soul,  weeping,  saith : 

"Nay,  my  soul  belongeth  to  Christ 
in  heaven,  and  I  must  not  give  it  to 
thee;  but  for  seven  years  shall  I  be 
thy  slave  if  thou  givest  this  dear  one 
to  me  at  the  end." 


0 


% 


79 


Q) 


'■     So  the  evil  one  thought  to  himself : 

'Would  I  could  steal  this  white  soul 

from  heaven  to  be  the  greatest  gem 

fi^in  my  crown  of  triumph,  and  to  serve 

Mme  seven  years.     At  the  end  of  that 

'time  her  heart  will  incline  to  evil, 

,and  she  will  become  mine." 

And  again  she  spoke  to  him,  and 
of  what  she  said  I  shall  sing  thee, 
Qlest  thou  grow  weary  of  my  prose : 


J^ 


i^S 


I-Jj> 


If  you  will  let  his  young  soul  go  free, 
I  will  serve  you  true  and  well, 

For  seven  long  years  to  be  your  slave 
In  the  bitterest  place  of  hell. 

Seven  long  years  if  you  be  my  slave 
I  will  let  his  soul  go  free." 
The  stranger  drew  her  then  by  the  hand, 
And  into  the  night  went  he. 

Seven  long  years  did  she  serve  him  true 

By  the  blazing  gates  of  hell. 
And  on  every  soul  that  entered  in 

The  tears  of  her  sorrow  fell. 

Seven  long  years  did  she  keep  the  place 

To  open  the  doors  accurst, 
And  every  soul  that  her  tear-drops  knew, 

It  would  neither  burn  nor  thirst. 
80 


And  once  she  let  in  her  father  dear, 

And  once  her  brother  through, 
Once  came  a  friend  she  had  loved  full  well: 

Oh,  hitter  it  was  to  do  ! 


Now,  no  toil  in  the  great  halls  of 
the  evil  one  could  have  been  more 
bitter  to  endure  than  to  unbar  the 
door  for  the  lost  souls;  for  her  sweet| 
tenderness  was  tortured  most  of  all 
by  the  despairing  ghosts  that  passedf^ 
to  their  eternal  perdition,  and  her 
hands  felt  guilty  at  letting  them  go  5^/ 
through.  .*f? 

But  of  all  the  sorrows  none  was  so 
great  as  for  her  eyes  to  see  the  tort- 
ures of  Black  Roderick,  who  stood 
beside  her  in  his  anguish,  for  the 
tears  that  fell  upon  him  from  her 
eyes  gave  him  no  relief,  since  he  had 
injured  her  on  earth.  She  held  her 
hands  to  hold  the  fiery  waters  that 
fell  upon  him,  and  her  tender  body 
strove  to  stand  between  him  and  his 
tortures  in  vain.  Seeing  her  so  en- 
deavoring, the  evil  one  spoke,  saying : 

8i 


0 


0> 


What  hast  thou  about  thee,  little 
)^soul,  that  thou  art  free  from  my  fire 
and  torments?" 

Then  the  little  bride  remembered 

f/^-r.Uhe  tears  she  had  hidden  in  her  heart, 

lY/f'that  had  fallen  upon  her  in  heaven 

from  the  angel's  eyes,  and  she  drew 

4^them  forth. 

And  the  tears  spoke  to  her,  say- 
ing: 
^^^     "Put  us  not  away,  lest  the  tor- 
^ments  overpower  thee,  so  thou  mayst 


^J^  never    come    to     the    kingdom 
y^  heaven." 


of 


ffCS 


eG> 


But  the  little  bride  lifted  them 
'upon  the  heart  and  mouth  of  Black 
Roderick,  so  he  suffered  no  more  the 
cruel  tortures  of  the  lost.  Now, 
when  the  evil  one  saw  this,  he  smiled 
to  himself,  "For,"  quoth  he,  "now 
will  she  know  temptations,  since  she 
hath  put  away  the  angel's  tears,  and 
hath  no  protection  save  her  own 
strength." 

And  so  bitter  were  her  sufferings 
82 


thatfl 


that  the  little  bride  cried  out  it  wasr 
more  than  she  could  bear. 

And  the  evil  one,  hearing  her,  said : 

"Give    thyself    to    me,    and    thouw 
shalt  suffer  no  more."  /^i 

But  she  turned  her  face  away,  and       "' 
made  him  no  answer. 

Then  Black  Roderick,  looking  upon^  ' 
her,  saw  her  anguish,  and  to  his  soul 
came    such    bitter    repentance 
great  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  upon 
her,    and    every    tear   was   as   balm??, 
upon  her  sad  and  suffering  flesh.     So 
that  when  the  seven  years  were  over 
she  stood  whole  and  without  pain. 

Now,  when  the  seven  long  years 
were  at  an  end,  she  found  the  flam- 
ing doors  opened  of  themselves  for 
her  and  Black  Roderick  to  go  forth. 
But  when  she  took  her  love  by  the 
hand,  a  great  cry  rose  from  the  lost 
souls  she  had  let  into  the  burning 
place  during  her  seven  years  of  trial. 
And  in  her  heart  was  such  grief  she 
could  not  go.     She  heard  her  father's 

83 


0 


(invoice  call  to  her,  and  the  voice  of 

^her  brother.     Therefore  went  she  to 

^the    throne    of    the    evil    one,    and 

f^begged  him  to  grant  her  a  boon. 

'"-%     "For  I  have  worked  long  for  thee 

and  well,"  quoth  she,  "and  I  beg  of 

thee  to  let  me  carry  forth  as  much 

;»44ntreasure  as  my  strength  can  bear." 


thou    shalt 
carry    thou 


P 


^z. 


That,"    saith    he, 

^have;    all    thou    canst 

mayst  take  forth,  if  thou  wilt  give 

)cime  for  payment  seven  more  years  of 

service 

Now,  when  the  little  bride  heard 
this  she  bowed  her  head  and  wept. 
^  "Seven  long  years,"  saith  she, 
"shall  I  serve  thee  more."  She  took 
Black  Roderick  by  the  hand,  and 
stood  by  him  at  the  open  doors. 
"Go  thou  upward,"  saith  she,  "and 
await  me  in  heaven." 

Then  she  closed  the  flaming  gates, 
and  took  her  place  behind  them. 
But  the  soul  of  Black  Roderick 
crouched  outside,  as  a  dog  lieth  on 

84 


f>> 


■^ij^ 


the  threshold  of  his  master.  For 
seven  long  years  he  let  no  one  ap- 
proach the  flaming  gates,  so  that  not 
once  were  they  opened  during  the^ 
last  seven  years  of  her  trial.  And 
when  the  day  came  for  her  to  go 
forth,  the  little  bride  flung  the  gates 
apart  with  a  loud  cry  of  joy.  She 
knew  the  evil  one  could  but  grant 
the  promise  she  had  extorted,  iovf^ 
she  had  served  him  well. 

And    of    the    further    trials    ani 
temptations  that  came  to  her  shall  I 
sing  thee,  lest  thou  grow  weary  of 
my  prose : 

Seven  long  years  did  she  serve  him  well 

Until  the  last  day  was  done; 
And  all  the  souls  site  had  let  in. 

They  clung  to  her  one  by  one. 

And  all  the  souls  she  had  let  through. 
They  clung  to  her  dress  and  hair, 

Until  the  burden  that  she  brought  forth 
Was  heavy  as  she  could  bear. 

The  first  who  stopped  upon  her  way 
Was  a  Saint  all  fair  to  see, 

8S 


^ 


% 


C!k 


CXlk 


■Jto 


't 


pAwcJ  ''Sister,  your  load  is  great"  she  said, 
"So  give  it,  I  pray,  to  me." 

(f-^"  Brigit  I  am;  God  sent  me  forth 
*^%s^     That  you  to  your  love  might  go  " — 

The  woman  she  drew  the  fair  robe  aside, 
li  Q){     And  a  cloven  hoof  did  show. 

^y^'  And  I  will  not  give  it  to  you,"  she  said, 
'€f»S     Quick  grasping  her  burden  tight; 


*And  all  the  souls  that  surrounded  her 
Clung  closer  in  dire  affright. 


/K^^rXThe  next  who  stopped  her  upon  her  way 
wy  v^     Was  an  angel  with  sword  aflame; 
^^^~<^M  ^"  The  Lord  has  sent  for  your  load,"  he  said: 
^yfTxf^^       "St.  Michael  it  is  my  name." 

^|J!y   The  woman  drew  back  his  gown  of  white, 
And  the  cloven  hoof  did  see. 
'"Oh,  God  be  with  me  this  day,"  she  said, 
"For  bitter  my  sorrows  be." 


"And  I  will  not  give  it  to  you,"  she  said, 

And  wept  full  many  a  tear. 
And  all  the  souls  that  her  burden  made 

Cried  out  in  desperate  fear. 


Now,  the  spirit  of  the  poor  little 
bride   stopped   upon   her   way,    and 
c©  feared  to  go  farther,  for  she  knew 

86 


^ 


not  what  to  do  nor  where  to  go,  and 
it  seemed  as  though  there  were  none 
to  trust.  And  as  she  stood,  with 
the  trembhng  souls  cHnging  to  her, 
from  the  far  -  off  earth  came  the 
sweet  singing  of  a  robin;  and  as  the 
bird  sang  he  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
till  the  little  bride  could  see  his  red 
throat  pulsing  with  his  song.  And 
the  song  he  bore  upon  his  beak  was^^ 
her  mother's  prayer. 

Now,  when  the  soul  of  the  little-?; 
bride  heard  this  sweet  singing,  she  ^ 
became  strong,  and  followed  the  bird 
even  to  the  gates  of  heaven;  and 
there  she  paused,  trembling,  afraid 
to  knock,  for  she  had  gone  forth  of 
her  own  free  will,  and  she  had  re- 
turned with  a  burden  that  she  had 
no  leave  to  bring. 

"And  without  these  dear  ones 
how  could  I  enter?"  saith  she;  and 
the  souls  trembled  with  her  in  her 
fear. 

But   the   robin   tapped   upon   the 
87 


0 


% 


^ 


^ 


gCZy 


■^ 


golden  gates  three  times  with  his 
beak,  and  flung  his  song  into  the 
shining  blue  of  the  skies. 

Then  a  voice  came  forth,  saying: 
By  what  right  comest  thou,  of 
all   birds,   to   disturb   the   peace   of 
paradise  with  thy  singing?" 
And  the  robin  answered: 
Because    I    alone,    of   all   birds, 
strove  to  draw  forth  the  cruel  nails 
in  Calvary;  so  my  breast  is  ever  red 
the  sacred  blood." 
And    what    song    bearest    thou 
upon    thy    bill,"    saith    the    voice, 
"that  would  be  welcome  here?" 

The  prayer  of  a  mother  for  the 
soul  of  her  little  child,"  quoth  the 
robin. 

When  he  saith  this  the  doors  of 
paradise  were  opened,  and  upon  the 
threshold  stood  one  of  the  archangels 
of  the  Lord,  and  his  face  was  glad 
and  glorious  as  the  sun.  And  when 
he  saw  the  little  bride,  with  her  bur- 
^  den   of  trembling  souls  clinging  to 

88 


>I~- 


her    dress    and 
enter. 

"Thou  hast  done  well,"  saith  he, 
"and  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  thy 
return." 

And  as  he  led  her  by  the  hand  the 
souls    dropped    from    her    and    flew 
through  the  golden  gates  with  loud^ 
cries  of  joy. 

So  brought  she  to  heaven  the  soul^ 
of    Black   Roderick,    that   had   been 
lost  but  for  her  great  and  suffering 
love.     And    from    the    closed    gates 
none  came  forth  save  the  little  robin. 

Now  must  I  end  my  tale,  lest  thou 
grow  weary  of  the  telling. 

And  if  more  thou  requirest,  listen 
thou  to  the  robin,  who  alone  of  all 
birds  hath  seen  the  glories  of  para- 
dise, and  who  telleth  to  all  men,  if 
they  would  but  hear,  his  pride  and 
his  joy.  Even  in  winter,  when  snow 
and  hunger  chill  him  almost  to  death, 
when  all  other  birds  are  silent  with 
discontent,    he   sitteth   upon   a   low 

89 


CD* 

0> 


bough  and  telleth  the  story  of  Black 
Roderick  and  his  Httle  bride,  and  of 
many  things  good   to  the  heart  of 
^^man.     Listen  thou  and  hearken. 


THE    END 


t3s#^ 


-H 
^ 


P 


<K3 


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S'}'*?\      iAX'i*:S''''-i~-^-^-' 


PR 


Shorter  - 


5i450     The  story  and 
S7s       son[^  of  Black 
Roderick 


PR 

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